


Before These Days Are Gone

by inevitablethief



Series: The Boys of Summer [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Awesome Mary Winchester, Bisexual Dean, Camping, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Crowley is a Bad Guy, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Inappropriate Erections, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Pining, Puberty, Sexual Abuse, Sharing a Bed, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-06-10 00:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 74,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6929935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inevitablethief/pseuds/inevitablethief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean's parents divorced, he lived full time with his dad and his stepmom.  Four years later, his mother finally gains visitation and Dean is sent to live with her every summer, if only to get out of his dad's hair.  The best part about these summer visits is that his best friend, Castiel, lives right down the hall.  Each summer, the two friends grow closer, sharing secrets, achievements, and disappointments.  However, as they grow up, their friendship matures and changes, and feelings that neither expected begin to emerge.  Can they navigate the difficulties of growing up together, or will tragedy tear them apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summer 1987

**Author's Note:**

> Please check the tags for possible triggers. Please also note the teen rating, which pertains to later chapters when they're actually teenagers. I chose not to warn against either underage or non-con, as I do not feel they are pertinent, despite the tags suggesting otherwise. Later chapters deal with puberty, coming into sexuality, mentioned sex acts, and the sexual abuse of a minor. However, I strongly believe I deal with everything in a way deserving of a teen rating. It's also like 50% percent fluffy kid stuff, and like 45% _oh crap, my best friend's hot_ stuff. (These percentages are not scientific.)
> 
> Only significant romantic or sexual relationships are tagged in the relationship tag, since I don't want to gum up any tags with what may only constitute a single mention. Nevertheless, I want to make sure readers are sufficiently warned about possible NOTPs and such. Therefore, the following relationships are minor and chapters that contain them will have warnings in the notes:
> 
> Castiel/Meg  
> Dean/Meg  
> Castiel/Charlie (This is a young, innocent, nothing but hand holding relationship.)  
> Castiel/Hester  
> Dean/Cassie  
> Castiel/Daphne (only not really)  
> Dean/Aaron
> 
> **This is part one of a series. Part two will take place when they are adults and will have an explicit rating.**
> 
> This takes place from 1987-1995.

Mary Winchester lost her children on November 2, 1983. To her humiliation, not only did John Winchester leave her for his mistress, but he and his new wife earned sole custody of four-year-old Dean, and six month old Sam. They threw everything they had at her, including allegations of drug and alcohol abuse, even though anything that was true of Mary was doubly true of John, and used the fact that she was now practically homeless against her. It took her three years to gain visitation rights, and by the time she saw her sons again, she was nothing more than a memory to Dean and a stranger to Sam. The following year, therefore, when she managed to wrangle a summer from their father, only Dean was permitted to go.

In the greatest gift of Mary’s life, Dean was not only willing to spend his summer with his mother, but enthusiastic. John placed a lot of burden on his young son: take care of your brother, respect your stepmother, be a man, don’t do this, don’t do that, respect your father. To spend time with a woman he still associated with fresh baked pie, the crusts cut off his peanut butter sandwiches, and "Hey Jude" hummed as she rocked him after a nightmare was as exciting for him as it was for his mother.

“I know it’s not much,” Mary grimaced.

Dean had never been to her apartment before. Being four hours away, their visitations had always taken place in Kansas at restaurants and parks, or at John and Kate’s house. It was shabby, but neat, and not in the greatest part of town, but it was the first place she’d ever had of her own, and she loved it.

“It’s great,” Dean smiled. Mary had spent the better part of a year first convincing her landlord to let her partition off a portion of the living room into a not-necessarily-legal bedroom, and then getting the local teenagers to do the work after school in return for free food at the diner where she worked. Her employee discount got a workout that spring.

It was all worth it, however, when she saw the look on Dean’s face when he saw he got his own room.

“Sammy and I have to share at home, momma,” he breathed. 

That night, Mary stayed up all night crying tears of joy, while her little boy slept under her roof for the first time in years.

The Novak's lived two doors down. Naomi Novak was in a similar, but very different situation. Her husband had taken off, leaving her a single mom of three rambunctious, but good-natured, kids. Naomi had been a source of great comfort and assistance to Mary over the years, suggesting a good family lawyer, acting as a reference for her job at the diner, and providing tea and sympathy when John continually blocked her seeing the kids. In return, Mary watched her kids when Naomi had to work or ran to pick up medicine at the local drug store when one of the kids was sick. 

It took a total of two days for the three Novak kids to show up to investigate the new arrival. The oldest child, Gabriel was eleven or twelve and had his mother’s golden brown hair, but eyes the color of whiskey. He was loud and clever, and never turned down a cookie or a slice of pie. The youngest was the only girl; at six years old, she was sweet, but bossy, and so naïve she believed anything her older brothers told her. The Novak child of note, however, was undeniably Castiel, as he was nearest Dean’s age. He was a sweet boy, his chocolate brown hair brightened with golden highlights, and his piercing blue eyes held a preternatural intelligence. He was never over that he didn’t offer to wash dishes or dust the bookshelves, and Mary’s grouchy cat, Angel, purred the moment the eight-year-old walked through the door. Perhaps, she doted too much on the middle Novak boy, as his presence allowed her to imagine what Dean was like when he hadn’t been accessible. It was, therefore, a comfort when Dean seemed to immediately choose Castiel as his favorite as well, and within five minutes was sharing his prized model cars with the other boy.

“This is just like my dad’s car,” Dean explained. “It’ll be mine when I’m eighteen. He promised.”

“Do you live with your dad?” Castiel asked, amazed, as he ran one of the cars up the sofa’s arm and down onto the seat.

“Yeah, but for the summer, I get to live with my mom,” Dean grinned. He had the ’67 Impala safely away from a curious Hannah and an impish Gabe.

“I always live with my mom,” Castiel intoned sadly and sat on the sofa seat with the red truck in hand.

“Dads are cool,” Dean exclaimed. He sat next to his new friend on the shabby sofa. “But moms are better.” He cupped his hands towards Castiel’s ear and whispered, “Don’t tell my dad I said that.”

“I don’t know your dad,” Castiel frowned. “But I really like your mom.”

“Good.” Dean picked up one of the unattended cars, a gold Lincoln Continental from the seventies. “This one is yours, Cas. It’s not an Impala, but it’s cool. Like you.”

It was unendlessly convenient for the boys’ mothers that they got along so well, as the difficulties of single motherhood necessitated a strong support system which the two women provided for each other. When Mary didn’t work until the evening, the four children played in her living room or she took them to the park and occasionally splurged on trips to the zoo or the movies. Dean could spend evenings his mother worked with his new best friend, and Mary could pick him up after the dinner shift and feed them all on leftovers. When Mary worked days, all the kids would take over a table and down milkshakes until they were hyped up on sugar and unruly; at which point, Naomi would be off work and have to deal with them.

After one such day, Mary joined Naomi for a soothing cup of tea at her kitchen table. 

“Dean is a sweet boy, Mary,” Naomi remarked.

“I’ve missed so much,” she lamented. “He was barely more than a baby when I last had him.”

Naomi took a calm sip of her Darjeeling. “You will do yourself no good by dwelling on the should-have-beens and such. He’s here now, he loves you, and that is all that matters.”

“I’ve lost Sam.”

“That’s not on you. That’s on a selfish, jealous man.”

“Shh,” Mary breathed. Her gaze fell upon the kids, all piled onto Naomi’s couch watching a movie on TV, but they were paying her no attention. “I don’t want Dean to hear me badmouthing his father.”

“Does he know how John has kept him from you?”

“He knows that I didn’t abandon him, that I’ve fought for him all these years, but he doesn't know details. He idolizes his father.”

“Oh, he does?” Naomi exclaimed.

“Yes, why?” Mary set her mug back on the table. Its steam swirled in the air between them. Dean always talked so well of his father at their visits: regurgitating his father’s beliefs, even his worship of that damned car (John had promised to get something practical like a VW Van).

“Castiel seemed to think otherwise. Perhaps he misunderstood.”

“Not likely,” Mary said pointedly. “Your son is alarmingly perceptive when it comes to things like that. That you shouldn’t tell strangers what you did in the bathroom, no.”

“Sorry about that,” Naomi grimaced.

“But especially when it comes to Dean, I’d trust Castiel’s opinion more than anyone’s.”

“Last week, Castiel asked me if it was true that boys can’t play with dolls because Dean told him that his dad says that dolls are only for girls.”

“Oh no,” Mary breathed. “I’m so sorry. John is…very traditional when it comes to gender roles and such. I…I wish that Dean didn’t absorb it like he does.”

“Mary.” Naomi seemed quite bothered. “I think you may have misunderstood. Why do you think Dean knows his father's opinion on boys and dolls?”

“John has never been shy about expressing his opinions,” Mary guessed.

There was a shout from the couch, as the kids reacted to something exciting that happened in their movie. Naomi leaned closer in to Mary so they didn’t hear her story. “The way Castiel relayed it to me, Dean spent five minutes describing the pretty doll he found in the attic.”

“I think that may have been mine,” Mary sputtered.

“I could give you every detail, if you’d like to confirm that, as Dean told my son everything from the color of her pretty hair to the ruffles on her pretty dress. Before he dismissed it all as being only for girls.”

“John puts a lot of pressure on Dean, but...” Oh her sweet, dear boy.

“Maybe you should buy him a doll,” Naomi suggested with a wicked gleam in her eye.

“I wouldn’t want to undermine John. It’ll only make things harder on Dean.”

“Maybe you’d like a new doll, then.”

Mary grinned mischievously.

The next day, a doll appeared in the living room. When Dean questioned it, Mary explained that she had gotten it for free when she had picked him up another car to replace the one he had gifted to Castiel that first day. By bedtime, the new toy car remained untouched, while the doll got tucked in beside Dean.

Soon, the doll joined in the kids play.

“I’ll be the daddy, and Hannah can be the mommy,” Dean suggested from the sheet tent they set up in Dean’s makeshift room.

“Why does Hannah get to be the mommy?” Castiel whined. “Who do I get to be?”

“You’re the daddy’s best friend, of course.”

“Well, I want to be the other daddy,” Castiel complained.

“Babies can’t have two daddies, Cas,” Dean countered.

“Of course they can,” Castiel insisted. “Mother tells me that families aren’t made of mothers and fathers, but of people who love each other.”

“Oh,” Dean pouted. “I guess I love you.”


	2. Summer 1988

“But I don’t want you to go,” Sam whined, but it was okay because five years old was still a baby.

“I can call you and send you letters, and we’ll see each other when you have your visits with her,” Dean reassured his little brother.

Dean put the last of the toys he was taking to his mom’s in a bag. A big pile still lay on the floor; Sam had whined about what toys he wanted to play with still (even though most of them were Dean's). There were still good toys at his mom’s, even if he hadn’t given that doll another thought since he had come home to his dad’s in the fall. Cas still had the Continental Dean had let him keep; Dean had made his mom make sure.

This summer was going to be different. Gabe was old enough that he could watch them while their moms worked, so that meant going places more interesting than the diner and the school administration building where Mrs. Novak worked. Why she had to work in the summer while school was out escaped him. It was nice that they’d have more freedom, but Dean didn’t care so much as long as he had his mom and his best friend. Dean would never tell Sammy this, but it was almost worth leaving his little brother for the summer to see Cas. 

Cas was quiet, probably because he had a loud older brother, but he could say things that had Dean laughing louder than he ever did with anyone else. Sometimes Dean felt that no one ever understood him the way Cas did. Cas was prettier than most girls, too, with his big blue eyes. If he was a girl, Dean would have wanted to marry him when they grew up. Even though Cas insisted every time they played house that boys could marry boys, Dean’s dad had taught him differently and Dean’s dad didn’t lie about things like that. Dean didn’t have any best friends at school; he had boys he played little league with, whose dads were friends with his dad: Victor, Garth, Gordon, and Rudy. They hung out after school, played Nintendo at Victor’s house, and ate lunch together in the cafeteria, but none of them could hold a candle to Cas.

Mom picked him up an hour later. There were a few tense minutes while Sam whined about not getting to come with Dean, but eventually Dean and all his stuff got packed into the back of mom’s car, and they headed down to Tulsa. They sang along to the radio and tried to guess what all the people in other cars were like and where they were going. They stopped for lunch on the road, and Dean got ice cream on his pie. It was awesome.

Mom had taken the whole day off of work so he could get settled. His room was just as he’d left it the previous year, except there were new _Star Wars_ sheets on the bed, and the dresser had a new coat of blue paint.

They had vegetable soup for dinner, with fresh baked rolls—from frozen, but Dean got to form the dough. Mom said no dessert since they’d had some on the road, but a chocolate chip cookie appeared on his plate anyway—a welcome back gift from Mrs. Novak.

They spent the rest of the evening watching TV together and planning the summer. Dean was sent to bed early, and fell asleep to the muted sounds of the television.

Early the next morning, however, Dean was knocking on the Novaks’ door. Cas answered it, still in his pajamas, and Dean nearly toppled him with a hug.

“Gee, you’re cuddly,” Dean teased as he felt his best friend’s pajamas beneath his hands. Cas squirmed, which only spurred Dean to turn his hug into a tickle fight.

Cas went down quickly, and Dean didn’t let up on his attack.

The commotion brought Cas’s siblings to the front hallway.

“Oh, are we ganging up on Cas this morning?” Gabe asked matter-of-factly before jumping into the fray.

Hannah shouted something unintelligible before joining in with an impressive body slam. Mrs. Novak should have probably put a limit on her Hulk Hogan watching.

Soon, they were a giggling, wriggling tickle ball, and had drawn the attention of Mrs. Novak, and her nasty neighbor Mr. Marv, who shouted at them.

“Welcome home, Dean,” Mrs. Novak smiled. “Have you had breakfast?”

“No, ma’am,” Dean grinned sheepishly.

“Sit down.”

All four kids got oatmeal and orange juice. After a few minutes—and a phone call from Mrs. Novak—mom joined them for a cup of coffee. Gabe kept pouring brown sugar on his oatmeal, while Hannah petulantly picked the raisins out of hers. 

“Ms. Campbell,” Gabe said through a mouthful of what was more sugar than oatmeal. “Mother says I’m old enough to go out of the building with Cas. Can Dean come with us to the arcade today?”

“Yeah, mom, can I?” Dean exclaimed at the same time as Cas implored, “Please, Ms. Campbell.”

Mrs. Novak looked pointedly at mom. “Gabe will be thirteen next month. Hannah needs an adult—“

“Not fair,” Hannah whined.

“But I trust Gabe with Castiel, as long as I know where they are.”

Mary eyed Gabe suspiciously. “I suppose, as long as you’re all home for lunch.”

Mr. Marv had to come back to complain about the noise again.

It was so weird to walk somewhere without an adult. Cas walked shoulder to shoulder with Dean, while Gabe walked behind, kicking garbage into their feet as they went.

“Hey, Dean-o, I’m gonna meet my friends at the arcade, so you can’t tell my mom. Cas here knows the rules.”

Cas shrugged. “I’m fine on my own, and I don’t mind. If mother knew that Gabe wasn’t minding me, then I couldn’t come. I like playing _Double Dragon_.”

“I’ve always wanted to play that one!” Dean exclaimed happily. “But my friend Victor doesn’t have it on his Nintendo.”

Cas dodged a coffee cup Gabe kicked towards him. “We can play together, then.”

Cas was really good at _Double Dragon_. He knew all the tricks, and Dean could barely keep up with him, so he was no help. 

“You were awesome, Dean,” Cas exclaimed.

“No I wasn’t. I didn’t do anything.”

Cas got them a pop from the vending machine by the bill changer. He popped the tab and took a big gulp before passing it on to Dean.

“I’ve never played with anyone else before,” Cas grinned. “Gabe won’t play with me—so I thought you were awesome.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean downed the rest of the pop in one long chug.

They played a couple more games before Gabe came to find them and take them home. He had an unwrapped candy bar in hand and was munching distractedly on it. 

“You kiddos have fun?”

“Yeah, thanks, Gabe,” Dean muttered.

“You boys did good. You didn’t get kidnapped, and you didn’t accept candy from strangers and choke on razor blades. Shall we do this at least once a week?”

* * *

The long summer days held so much. Mary had saved over the year so she could work fewer hours during the summer and still have money for fun. She and Dean went to the zoo, the park, the local pool; whenever they could--or Mrs. Novak could afford it—the Novaks joined in. Gabe’s birthday came around soon enough; he and his friends went to the arcade and then the two families had chocolate cake with sprinkles and ice cream. Now that he was old enough to watch them during the day, that meant junk food, more trips to the arcade, and trying to keep Hannah from starting wrestling matches.

The Fourth of July came in sparklers and fireworks, which they watched from the park together with dripping ice cream cones, buttery popcorn, and corn dogs. Dean and Cas lay on the damp grass head to head and watched the colors exploding in the sky. Hannah chased Gabe around them, while other revelers, who’d had too much beer and sun, sang patriotic songs out of tune. It was a perfect night.

A week later, Cas’s birthday was an even bigger celebration. It was a Sunday, so neither of their moms had to work, and all six of them went to the water park. Cas and Dean slid down water slides, ducked waves, and got terrible sunburns. With the allowance Dean’s mom gave him for washing dishes and cleaning up Angel’s litter box, Dean bought Cas an awesome paddle ball. Sure, it broke after Gabe stole it, but they used the rubber ball, still attached to its string to tease the cat.

It wasn’t all fun and games, though. Dean had barely passed English the previous year and Mary was determined to improve his reading skills. This meant that a new book mysteriously appeared on his nightstand every few weeks: _The Indian in the Cupboard, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_ , which turned out to be a series, and every one showed up one after another, _Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E Frankweiler, To Kill a Mockingbird_. They were all awesome and Dean was soon making his way through them faster than they could show up.

It wasn’t until the first week of August, when bad weather forced them inside and Dean and Cas were lying on the floor of Cas and Gabe’s bedroom, making shapes on the ceiling with a flashlight, that Dean caught sight of Cas’s empty bookshelf in an errant beam that he put it all together.

“Your mom asked me if I knew of any books you might like,” Cas admitted sheepishly.

“Dude, those are your books?!”

“Yes, except for _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_. That one is Gabe’s. I told your mother I would lend you any books you wanted to read. I’m afraid I am running out, though.”

Dean stood up to rush back to his mom’s apartment. “Let me return the others, Cas,” he huffed, face red and warm.

“I’ve read all of those already,” Cas frowned. 

“Well, what if you want to read them again?”

Cas reached out from his perch on the floor and pulled Dean back to the pile of blankets they had been lying on. “If they’re yours, they’re as good as mine. That’s what best friends mean, right?”

“Yeah, but I just have them in a pile on my dresser and you have this nice bookshelf. Goes both ways.”

They spent the next hour reshelving the books on Cas’s bookshelf and carefully writing in the inside cover _From the Library of Castiel J. Novak and Dean W. Campbell_.

When he’d arrived the previous year, the Novaks had assumed his last name was the same as his mom’s, so he’d been Dean Campbell. He’d never corrected them. Dean Winchester lived in Kansas, with a dad who made him watch his little brother every day after school, a stepmom who hated him, and a failing grade in English. Dean Campbell had his mom, a best friend, long summer days, and now a collection of awesome books. It was as if he’d stepped through a door at the back of his closet into a magical world himself.

Soon Dean Campbell also had a library card, and Gabe was conned into walking the two boys to the library every few days for the last three weeks of Dean’s time there. They shared the books, reading one and switching when they were done. Sometimes, they’d sit under a sheet fort in one of their rooms with Angel napping on Cas’s lap and flashlights at the ready, and read aloud to each other. Cas read so beautifully that the words seemed to come to life through his voice. 

By the time summer was over and school was going to begin for Dean in Lawrence, he’d undeniably had the best summer he’d ever had. Tears poured freely from his eyes his last night in Tulsa.

“I want to stay here, momma,” he cried. His mom brushed one long-fingered, elegant hand through his hair.

“We’ll see each other next month, sweetheart,” she reassured.

“It’s not the same,” he whined. “There’s not gonna be Cas and Gabe, and Sam wants your attention, too.”

She tugged at his shoulders until his head was resting on her soft lap and continued stroking his hair.

“Maybe next year, Sam will be able to come for the summer, too.”

“But I like it when you’re just _my_ mom. Sammy gets everyone’s attention at dad’s.”

“Hey, mister, I only have to miss you nine months out of the year; I have to miss your brother all twelve.

“But,” he countered, feeling clever. “I have to miss you—and Cas—nine months out of the year; I only have to miss Sam three months.”

“I think you’d miss Sam if you saw him less.”

“I guess,” Dean grumbled. “Do you think Mrs. Novak would let Cas come and visit me in Lawrence?’

“You could ask her.”

Dean glanced towards his packed bags, which held his most treasured possessions: three of _The Chronicles of Narnia_ books from his and Cas’s shared collection, a ticket stub from the water park, a red, white, and blue pennant from the Fourth of July, the rubber string which eventually broke off the ball once Angel the cat actually caught it—Mrs. Novak had taught Cas how to cut it in three pieces and braid it to make the manliest of friendship bracelets. Dean still didn’t want his dad to see it, though, so it was tucked carefully away, and Dean would only bring it out when his dad wasn’t around. His most prized possession, however, was folded into _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_ and contained the careful nine-year-old handwritten address of one Castiel Novak. He had Dean’s address in Lawrence, too, and they had made solemn promises to write as often as possible. When Dean thought it likely that his dad was in a good enough mood to allow his friend from Tulsa to come for a visit, Dean would write Cas and ask. That way, Dean didn’t have to see Cas’s face if he couldn’t come.

The next day he had a four-hour drive ahead of him, so his mom made him get some sleep. Even though, sitting in the living room, she could have heard the sounds of him crying, she didn’t interrupt or try to comfort him. In return, Dean pretended not to hear the soft sobs coming from the direction of the sofa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kids birthdates are:
> 
> Dean: January 24, 1979  
> Sam: May 2, 1983  
> Castiel: July 10, 1979  
> Gabriel: June 25, 1975  
> Hannah: May 4, 1981


	3. Letters: September 1988-May 1989

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I'd warn you of non-tagged pairings in each chapter. In this chapter we have mentions of:
> 
> Castiel/Meg  
> Castiel/Daphne  
> Dean/Cassie
> 
> But they're all nine years old, so it's playground stuff. This constitutes the entirety of both Castiel/Daphne and Dean/Cassie.

September 30, 1988

Dear Cas,

My dad is being a pain, again. It’s not my fault Sam spilled the paint in the garage. I was doing my homework; it wasn’t my job to watch him. Anyway, I’m grounded and it sucks. At least I get to see my mom next week. I found a really cool Indian arrowhead on a field trip. I’ll send it back with my mom so you can keep it safe all year. What’s mine is yours, right, buddy? Tell Gabe (and Hannah) I say hi. How’s _Double Dragon_? My friend Victor finally got it on his Nintendo, so maybe next summer we’ll get the high score. 

I’ve read _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_ four times since getting home. Maybe I’ll send the books back with my mom, too, so you can add them back to the collection. I got a library card here in Lawrence, too, so I can get more books. My teacher says my reading comprehension is way better than last year. Did you know there was a sequel to _The Indian in the Cupboard_? I like the first one better, but it was still really good. 

Please write back.

Your friend,

Dean

* * *

October 10, 1988

Dear Dean,

I’m sorry about your dad. Gabe was supposed to watch Hannah last week, but he was talking to a girl on the phone, and Hannah knocked the macaroni and cheese off the stove. She wasn’t hurt, but somehow I got in trouble for not stopping her, so I get what you mean. Being an older brother is hard sometimes. Of course, with Gabe around, being a younger brother is hard, too.

Gabe says hi, by the way. Hannah, too. My mom hopes you’re well and that school isn’t too difficult. I’m in fourth grade now; we had a spelling bee last week. I won my class competition, and I go against all the winners from every grade next week. If I win that (fat chance!), I’d be able to compete regionally. We could really use the scholarship money, so I wish I could win. School is keeping me really busy, so I haven’t had any time to visit the arcade. I bet when I next see you, you’ll be better than me.

I hadn’t read _The Return of the Indian_ , but I checked it out of the library after your last letter. I really liked it. It was scary at times, but so exciting. I wish we had a magic key and could travel to other places. I’d never go without you, though.

The arrowhead is so cool! Gabe helped me tie a leather strip around it and I can wear it as a necklace. I tuck it under my shirt, though, so it doesn’t get lost or stolen. Arrowheads are really valuable. Thank you for returning the books, the shelf did look kind of sad without them. I have given your mom two books to give you the next time she sees you, but I’ll let it be a surprise. I think you’ll like them, though.

The fourth and fifth graders are going to put on a school play. I kinda want to audition, but I’m afraid I’ll make a fool of myself—Gabe isn’t helping. What do you think?

Best Wishes,

Castiel

* * *

October 21, 1988

Dear Cas,

You should totally try out for the play! I bet you’d be really good! I wish I could come and see you in it. I keep trying to get my dad to let Sam and me spend a weekend at mom’s. He’s never been there; can you believe it? We’d spend all day in the car if we tried to go to Tulsa on one of her regular visitations, but maybe it’d be worth it.

Congratulations on the spelling bee. Your letters always have good spelling, so I’m not surprised you did good. 

I like that you’re wearing the arrowhead. I wear my rubber bracelet all the time. It broke once, but my stepmom was actually nice for once and helped me fix it with some glue and a rubber band. And she didn’t even tell my dad about it!

Sam keeps asking me about you. He doesn’t have a best friend, so I bet he’s jealous. If you could put a school picture or something with your next letter, I could show him what you look like. I haven’t seen my mom yet since your last letter, so I can’t wait to see what books you sent with her!

I have to go. My dad needs me to mow the lawn. You’re lucky there are no lawns to mow at the apartment building.

I’m back! I want to mail this on the way to school, though, so I can only write a little more. My class is going to get pen pals in California. I said I didn’t need one because I write letters to my best friend already. My teacher said that doesn’t count. Gotta go!

Happy Halloween! I’m going to be a ninja! What are you gonna be?

Your BEST friend,

Dean

* * *

November 3, 1988

Dear Dean,

Your Halloween costume sounds awesome! I was a ghost, Gabe was a musketeer with two of his friends, and Hannah was a mouse.

I didn’t win my spelling bee. I lost in the last round with a really hard word. I’d tell you what it is, but obviously, I can’t spell it.

I did audition for the school play, and I actually got a part. You’re probably going to laugh—Gabe did—but I’m going to be the prince. That means I have to kiss the girl playing Snow White! I’m really scared. Have you ever kissed a girl?

I included a picture. Tell Sam I say hi. You should send a picture back. I’d put it in the box under my bed with all my other treasures. I really miss you, Dean. Sometimes when I’m at your mom’s apartment, I sit in your room with Angel, reading a book, and pretend you’re there, too. Sorry, that was stupid. I only did that like once.

Gabe is having a hard time at school. Mother was hoping he’d get into a good high school, but that doesn’t look likely. It’s probably good because it’s not like we could afford private school. I know your dad drives you crazy sometimes, but you’re really lucky you have one. I barely remember my dad, just that he was tall and grumpy and Hannah and I inherited his hair color.

I don’t want to end on a downer. Have you read _The Hobbit_? Gabe had to read it for school, but I stole it and it’s awesome! 

I miss you.

Your best friend,

Cas

* * *

November 18, 1988

Dear Cas,

Oh my God, that picture!! What is going on with your hair? And Gabe’s?! I laughed so loud when I saw it that my dad yelled at me (what’s new?). Sam laughed, too, when I showed him. Now he’s really jealous that I have such an awesome best friend. I put the picture up on my bulletin board so I can see it all the time. I put a picture of me and Sammy in this letter. That’s my dad in the background.

I really want to get to see you in your play. I bet you'll be an awesome prince! Maybe my mom will go to see it and she can tell me about it. 

Um…I guess I kissed Cassie Robinson on the baseball diamond after a T ball game two years ago. Just on the cheek. She hit me afterwards, so I’m not sure it counts. Please don’t tell anyone that.

I like thinking about you going to my room. You can go in there anytime my mom’s babysitting you or even when she’s not and you’re just lonely. It makes you AND my room feel closer knowing that you're together. I’m glad my mom has your mom and you guys to keep her company. And Angel. But he makes my nose run, so sometimes I like to leave him out. She seemed so sad when I saw her last. It's not fair that I don’t get to stay with her during the school year. It’s not like I’m even good at school. We read boring books, not the cool books I read with you. I haven’t read _The Hobbit_! It sounds really cool, though. What's a hobbit?

I miss you, too! Maybe I can ask my dad and my mom and you can ask your mom if you can come and visit over the Christmas break? You could come when my mom comes. She’s a good driver, I swear. Then you could meet Sammy and we could climb the tree in my backyard and bury a time capsule so people in the future know how good of friends we are.

Your best friend,

Dean

* * *

December 4, 1988

Dear Dean,

We’re going to visit my grandparents in Illinois for Christmas. I’d rather go see you, though. They’re really religious and we have to go to church a lot. But it is funny watching Gabe get sent to the corner for his foul language.

I’m glad you liked my picture. Hannah wanted to play hairdresser, so Gabe and I were good older brothers for once and let her. Gabe almost needed a haircut afterwards, though, as his hair was a rats’ nest. Peanut butter fixed it though. Then he had to wash his hair three times to get the peanut butter out. I think it was all a conspiracy to get him into the shower more. He stinks. Mom says it’s puberty, but I think it’s just Gabe.

Your picture is great. Now that I know you don’t mind if I go to your room, I take the picture with me, then it’s more like you’re there, and Sam, too.

Daphne—she plays Snow White—hasn’t hit me yet, so I guess I’m doing better than you at the whole kissing thing. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Best friends keep secrets.

Hobbits are little people with hairy feet who live in holes in the ground. They’re awesome!

Your best friend,

Cas

* * *

December 21,1988

Dear Cas,

Merry Christmas! My mom gave me the present you got for me. I only just started it, but I think I want to be a hobbit, now. I hope she gave you the present from me. Not that she’d forget or anything. She told me she saw your play and that you were really good. She liked the way you fought the witch and rescued Snow White. She sat next to Gabe, though, and she said he laughed all through your kissing scene. But she thought you were really sweet and that Snow White was lucky to have you. Is Daphne your girlfriend now?

I don’t have your grandparents’ address, so you’ll probably get this once you get back. 

I’m glad I don’t have a sister. Having a little brother is hard enough. 

I wish you were here so bad. My dad’s best friend is here for Christmas. He’s cool. He convinced my dad to let me help them tune up the Impala. My dad’s a mechanic. I don’t know if I ever told you that. I only get to hand them tools and beers, but I can’t wait!

I have to go now. We’re having pie for Christmas dessert and I can’t wait! I love pie!

Your best friend,

Dean

* * *

January 9, 1989

Dear Dean,

I love my Christmas present! When you come this(!!) summer, we can stamp all the books in our collection like a real library. It’s grown a bit since Christmas, but I'm saving the new books for the summer so we can read them together.

Daphne’s not my girlfriend. She only play liked me when I was the prince and she was Snow White. There is a girl in my class who does like me, though. She chases me around trying to kiss me. Just to see what would happen, I let her catch me the other day. She jumped on me so hard, I skinned my knee and had to go to the nurse’s office. Maybe I’ll let her be my girlfriend. Even though she ruined my best school jeans. Your mom is helping me fix them.

I got my first kiss for my trouble, though. She even hurt me in the process, though I don’t think it was on purpose.

I’ve never seen the engine of a car. Is it really dirty in there? My mom’s car broke down once and we couldn’t afford to fix it, so we sold it. Your mom is really nice about lending my mom hers when she really needs one, though. Sometimes I feel bad seeing your mom because I know you wish you could be closer to her. I know it’s long distance, but maybe we could talk on the phone sometime. I like to pretend you’re telling me your letters, and it’s been so long I don’t remember your voice. 

Your best friend,

Cas

* * *

January 17, 1989

Dear Dean,

This is a birthday card. Happy Birthday! I wish we could spend your birthday together like we got to spend mine. The water park is one of my favorite memories. I think I might go out for swim team at the pool.

I included your birthday present in this letter. It’s a lanyard. You can put keys on it, or you can wear it like a bracelet (in case your rubber one broke again). 

We invited your mom over for the day of your birthday. I know she gets to talk to you on the phone, but my mom thought she might be lonely. I know what your present is from her. I helped her pick it out, so I know you'll like it.

Your best friend,

Cas

* * *

February 2, 1989

Dear Cas,

I do have keys, since I take the bus home from school, but I’m wearing the lanyard as a bracelet anyway. Maybe once I get the keys to the Impala (I wish!), I’ll use it as a key ring. It’s awesome either way!

I like to pretend you’re telling me the things in your letters too! That’s why it sometimes takes me so long to write back because I like to read your letters over and over again until I’ve memorized them and then I write my responses like I was telling them to you. 

My dad won’t let me call you, and I’m kind of afraid to ask him anyway. Maybe when I talk to my mom on the phone, she can put you on for a minute. I’d really like to talk to you again, too.

I can’t believe you have a girlfriend before I do!

Cars are kind of dirty on the inside. It’s mostly grease though, which helps the parts move. My dad says that a clean engine is important, so he polishes the inside of the Impala just like the outside. When I get the Impala, maybe we’ll drive someplace cool. I’ll teach you everything you could want to know about cars (by that time I’ll probably know everything). 

We’re reading a book about a pig in school. I wish we read cool books like _The Hobbit_. My teacher was really impressed I was reading that, by the way. She says it’s at a sixth grade reading level. I told her all about you and how we read books together. She says I’m lucky to have a friend like you. Duh! You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.

Your best friend,

Dean

* * *

February 15, 1989

Dear Dean,

Meg’s not really my girlfriend. It turns out she likes the chasing more than the catching. She’s now moved on to a sixth grader.

Your mom said I could talk on the phone the next time she does. I’m going to do extra chores around her apartment to pay for it. I don’t mind changing Angel’s litter box. He’s my closest friend when you’re not here.

Gabe got into a lot of trouble at school. Apparently, some food went missing from the cafeteria kitchen, and they found it in Gabe’s locker. He got suspended for two days. They told mother had it been anything more valuable than food, he would have gotten expelled. Mother was so furious, she thought being suspended wasn’t enough punishment, so he has to work in the cafeteria during lunch for a whole month.

They also sent someone to our apartment to make sure mother was feeding us. Your mom stepped in and gave them hell. No one had told them that the food Gabe stole was all chips and cookies and they thought he was starving. He eats so much he’s downright chubby! Mom has to keep buying him new jeans. I get the old ones and they’re all too big on me.

Your best friend,

Cas

* * *

March 17, 1989

Dear Dean,

I hope my last letter didn’t get lost or anything. Your mom said her visitation was cancelled last week, but she talked to you on the phone. I don’t know why she didn’t tell me before; I was going to get to talk to you, too. I hope there’s nothing wrong. I know your mom really missed seeing you, and I really miss getting your letters.

I told you about Gabe getting in trouble in school and having to work in the cafeteria as punishment in my last letter. One really nice thing about that is now he can help mother cook dinner. Really help, not just heat macaroni and cheese on the stove. We had chicken last night and he made a really yummy sauce for it. He wouldn’t tell me what was in it or anything; he says it’s a secret recipe. But I think it was mostly ketchup.

Please write back! It doesn’t have to be long or anything. 

Your best friend in the whole world,

Castiel Novak

* * *

April 20, 1989

Dear Dean,

Did I say (or do) something wrong? I know your mom saw you, but she couldn’t tell me anything. I’m afraid something is wrong! It’s just a few months before you get to come here again (you are coming here in the summer, right?) and I was hoping I’d get my best friend back.

Please write. I miss you so much.

Castiel Novak

* * *

April 28, 1989

Dear Cas,

I’m sorry! Of course you didn’t do anything wrong! You’re my best friend!

I’m the one that messed up. Sam broke his arm and it’s all my fault. I was playing Superman and he jumped off the shed in the backyard. He didn’t realize I was pretending and he wanted to be a superhero, too.

My dad was sleeping on the sofa, but I couldn’t wake him up. He always drinks too much when his team loses. My stepmom was out and I had to take Sam to the hospital on my bike.

My dad yelled at me so long and hard. He told me I couldn’t tell my mom about it, too, because she’d “make a big deal out of it.” Since you live next door, I thought maybe I couldn’t tell you either. I was so scared. Then I remembered he doesn’t know I write you. I buy the stamps and envelopes with my own money from raking the neighbor’s yard, and I always check the mail while he’s at work.

You can’t tell my mom. I’m already in so much trouble.

Your **bestest** friend in the whole wide world,

Dean

* * *

May 6, 1989

Dear Dean,

Your dad was the one who messed up, Dean. You should tell your mom (or a neighbor or your teacher) about what happened. Can I tell my mother, at least? 

I’m glad you still like me, though. I’ve missed your letters so much! You’re still coming for the summer, right? I don’t know what I’d do if I had to spend the summer with only Gabe and Hannah! You’re the best friend I’ve ever had!

I don’t think you did anything wrong. Sometimes bad things happen. You were really brave to take Sam to the hospital; the doctors and nurses probably told you so. I hope you remember that when your dad gets mad at you. He didn’t do anything to help, but you got Sam to the doctors. I think you’re a hero.

Love,

Cas

* * *

May 14, 1989

Dear Cas,

I keep your last letter under my pillow and I read it whenever I get sad or scared. I’m really lucky to have a friend as great as you.

You can’t tell your mom. She’ll tell my mom and then I’ll get in so much trouble with my dad. Best friends keep secrets, remember?

Yes, I’m going to come this summer! Even if my dad didn’t let me (and I think he likes having me away all summer), I’d run away and live with my mom all the time. Then we could go to school together! I’d protect you from Meg and anybody else who tried to mess with you (or attack kiss you!), and we could be partners on all our projects.

Love,

Dean

* * *

May 26, 1989

Dear Dean,

You’re right, best friends do keep secrets. I won’t tell anyone, not even Angel the cat. I don’t want to get you in trouble. 

Your mom did tell my mom that you’re officially coming next month!!! I’m so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I hope we can go to the water park for my birthday again. This is going to be the best summer ever!

Love,

Cas


	4. Summer 1989

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for _Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade_. 
> 
> It's summer 1989 and the boys are ten years old.

“Mother, may I go sit in front of Ms. Campbell’s door and wait for Dean to come?”

“No, Castiel,” Cas’s mother frowned. “You should let Ms. Campbell and Dean have some time together before you go to see him.”

“Does that mean I can’t see him at all today?” Cas whined.

“Yes, numb nuts,” Gabe shouted from the kitchen table where he was scarfing ridiculous amounts of macaroni and cheese

“Gabriel, language,” his mother admonished. “You didn’t have to see him first thing last year, Castiel.”

"Last year we hadn’t spent the entire school year writing letters. I’ve been waiting months and months to see him.”

“Then you can patiently wait one more day.”

Castiel trotted off to his shared bedroom and dug out the treasure box from under his bed. He had every letter Dean had written him for the whole year in there, along with Dean’s picture, the stamp Dean had given him for Christmas, and all the other things that were special or pretty that he didn’t want Gabe or Hannah to get their hands on. He had the rest of the cord from Dean’s birthday present in there, too, and maybe he’d teach Dean how to weave it. They could wear matching bracelets so everyone would know they were best friends.

Cas lost himself in _From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler_. If Dean ever had to run away, Cas would definitely go with him. Sleeping in a museum was kind of creepy, though, so maybe they’d find a Hobbit hole somewhere. He got so involved that he didn’t hear the knock on the door of his and Gabe’s bedroom until it became insistent. It was a weird thing in general to hear a knock as no one ever respected Castiel’s privacy. He couldn’t blame Gabe, as it was his room too (though bursting into the bathroom while he was taking a shower because “I really need to piss, Cas” was crossing a line), and Hannah was too little to really understand privacy, but mother could respect that this was Cas’s room and knock. She never did, though, so the mystery knocker remained as such until Castiel opened the door.

Dean was standing on the other side, looking ready to burst.

“My mom let me come over for five minutes. I thought you’d never answer your door!”

Dean then threw his arms around Cas and gave him the biggest, warmest, best hug he’d ever had in his life.

“You don’t have to knock, Dean,” Cas mumbled into Dean’s shoulder.

“I wanted it to be a surprise!”

“It’s the best surprise! You got taller!”

“So did you,” Dean laughed. “I have to go back. Mom and I are having burgers for dinner. I get to squash the meat into patties.”

“I wish I could have dinner with you and your mom,” Cas mused.

Dean loosely took his hand; it wasn’t like holding hands or anything, Dean was using it to lead Cas out of his room and into the hallway. Dean’s hand was really warm, though, and not at all sticky or sweaty.

“I wish you could, too, but mom missed me, too, you know?”

“I know,” Cas shrugged. Dean had already pulled him past the kitchen and out into the hall, where Mr. Marv was arriving home from the grocery store. Dean let go of Cas’s hand to help Mr. Marv with his bags. Mr. Marv was all “thank you, young man,” and “you’re such a gentleman.” He was never that nice to Cas; he always groaned and grimaced when he passed Cas in the hall.

“Maybe mom and I can make two extra and we can have them for lunch tomorrow,” Dean grinned as they walked shoulder to shoulder. He didn’t take Cas’s hand again.

They reached Dean’s front door. Ms. Campbell had the radio playing and Cas could hear the lyrics as she sang along:

_I would follow him right down the toughest road I know  
Someday soon, going with him, someday soon._

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Cas,” Dean murmured. “Do you think your mom would give you the money for the movies?”

Cas shrugged. “I’ve been saving all my allowance since after Christmas.”

“Great!” Dean exclaimed. “We have to see the new _Indiana Jones_ movie! He’s the coolest!”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You’re gonna love it, Cas!” Dean smiled as he opened the door and went back to his mom and their hamburgers.

Cas read for the rest of the evening, first finishing _The Mixed Up Files_ , then going on to _James and the Giant Peach_. Gabe was asleep and snoring by the time Castiel shut off his flashlight and went to sleep himself.

The next day, there were two burgers for him and Dean to reheat in the microwave. Gabe managed to contain his jealousy enough to make them a special sauce, which tasted a lot like the one on Big Macs. They spread out one of Dean’s blankets on the small lawn between the apartment building and the street, and settled down with their special picnic. Ms. Campbell had let them have potato chips with their burgers, but had also insisted on carrot sticks, too. Dean stared at them with a grimace before helping Cas bury them in the grass.

The sky was a bright blue, dotted by a few fluffy clouds. It’d probably rain later, but for now, it was the perfect day. Tummies full, they lay on their back and tried to find patterns in the shapes of clouds.

“I don’t ever want to move,” Dean groaned.

“You want to go swimming tomorrow?” Cas asked, as a sheep trotted across the sky.

“Doesn’t that require moving?” Dean rolled over to face him.

“I assumed you were exaggerating.”

“Eh,” Dean shrugged. “Wait—my mom said she can drive us to the movies tonight; I’ll move.”

“My mom says Gabe has to come, too.”

“’Course. But I’m not buying _him_ popcorn.”

* * *

When they arrived at the movie theater, there was a line that turned around the block. Castiel hadn’t seen anything like it. They didn’t get to the movies often, as mother preferred more educational uses of her small salary as a secretary for the superintendent of the school district. Sure, it sounded like an impressive job, but there was never enough money.

Ms. Campbell dropped the three of them off; Gabe agreed to hold their place in line, while Cas and Dean got into the—thankfully shorter—line to actually buy the tickets. Fifteen minutes and Cas and Dean had joined Gabe in waiting for their show. Some people were in costumes, and Cas was suddenly struck with the realization that he knew nothing at all about what they were going to see.

“Dean,” he whispered, leaning in closely to his friend. “I haven’t seen the other movies.”

“What?” Dean laughed and clearly thought it a joke. He took in Castiel’s serious expression, and darkened visibly. “I don’t think that’s a problem. The second movie had nothing from the first movie in it. They’ll probably explain everything at the beginning. You’ll be fine, man.”

“Uh, we could probably get the other two movies on VHS from the library or something,” Cas hinted.

“This is why you’re my best friend, Cas,” Dean grinned.

The line moved quickly, as each theatre would fill in turn, so it wasn’t nearly as long as Cas had expected before they were let loose at the concession stand. Gabe bought one of every type of candy, and Dean did buy popcorn like he’d suggested and two cokes, one of which he put in Cas’s hands immediately.

“It’s root beer,” Dean explained. “Your favorite.”

They found seats in the crowded theatre, Cas in between his brother and his best friend. Dean tucked the popcorn in the space between himself and the armrest. It was within easy reach of Cas, but Dean had seemed so possessive of the popcorn when talking about Gabe earlier.

“Aren’t you gonna have popcorn, Cas?” Dean asked through a mouthful of the stuff.

Cas nodded and took a handful of the buttery goodness.

The movie was really exciting. Indiana Jones was funny and charming, but they nearly destroyed a library (sacred!) and there was a bit too much on dads and sons for any of their taste. Cas could see Dean squirm uncomfortably as scene after scene portrayed a dad who wanted his son to be exactly like him and was disappointed when he wasn’t. Indiana Jones was as cool as Dean had said he was, but his dad liked books, so it was hard to decide who to side with. Dean seemed to love it anyway, whooping through the exciting parts and covering his eyes when the bad guy turned old really fast. Cas wondered how they did that, even though he had to peek through one eye himself. In his play, when they had to make it look like the Wicked Queen was turning a nice apple into a poison one, they used green lights and dry ice to make it scary. They probably had fancier things to use in the movie.

The movie theatre had a small arcade, so when the movie was out, Gabe headed straight there, leaving Cas and Dean alone.

“Did you like it?” Dean asked. The grin on his face meant that he had probably loved it.

“Yeah,” Cas smiled. “I wish we could go on an adventure.”

“You wanna wade through rats, Cas?” Dean smirked.

“You should have seen the place we lived in before we moved here.”

Dean leaned his head back and laughed until he couldn’t breathe. He was red-faced and panting by the time he regained his composure. 

* * *

Dean’s obsession with Indiana Jones colored most of their summer. They saw the movie together twice more, and found a hat at the thrift store which they took turns wearing. The only adventure they went on, however, was to the library for books (once they’d gone through Cas’s Christmas stash), to the swimming pool, and to the arcade where Gabe ignored them as always. Cas’s birthday came and went with another trip to the water park, where Dean got even more freckled and pink. 

August came much too fast, and with it, Dean’s time ran down. Cas had a bit of his allowance left and still had the need for an adventure. Fortune shined on him, when he caught sight of a flyer on the bulletin board at the library:

**Dowdle and Sons Carnival**  
**August 2-24**  
**County Fairgrounds, Tulsa, OK**

Dean was checking their books out with the librarian, and Cas almost ripped the flyer off the board to keep him from seeing it. End of summer surprises were only good if they were a surprise. Instead, he rushed back to his friend and took half the load from him once they were ready.

“I didn’t see you pick out this one?” He said, holding up a copy of _The Chocolate Touch_.

Dean shrugged. “I thought it sounded good.”

“It does,” Cas agreed. All books sounded good to him.

They made it out of the library with Dean none the wiser. Cas’s mother was reticent to spend the money, even though Cas offered up his last fifteen dollars. Ms. Campbell also agreed to keep it a secret from Dean, so it would be a surprise, and to drive all six of them to the fairgrounds.

The morning of August 12, they packed into Mary's car and drove the twenty minutes or so to the fairgrounds. Dean remained uninformed as to their destination (as did Hannah, who had not yet learned to keep her mouth shut).

Dean’s face when he saw where they were going, however, was worth all the secrets. Their mothers paid for the tickets; Cas noticed that Mary contributed just a little bit more than what she and Dean should have cost. They walked past the food stalls with their drifting scents of corn dogs, fries, and funnel cakes tantalizing from every angle. Neither Dean nor Gabe could resist their siren call, and they finished their stroll through the carnival with cotton candy and fried pickles in hand. Like the popcorn at the movies those months ago, Dean shared his pickles. They were greasy and so hot they burned Castiel’s fingers, but they were delicious nonetheless.

Mother had let Cas keep his remaining allowance, and it burned a hole in his pocket. There were games in the midway, rides, exhibits, and Castiel wanted to experience them all.

But Dean had different ideas. “No,” he frowned.

“Well, if you don’t want to ride the Ferris Wheel and you don’t want to ride the swings, what do you want to ride?” Gabe grunted.

“Bumper cars are good,” Dean muttered, his cheeks pink.

Cas spoke up. "I like bumper cars,” he shrugged. He earned a small smile from Dean for his trouble.

In the end, Mother and Ms. Campbell took Hannah on one of the kiddie rides, Gabe rode the swings, and Cas and Dean got into line for the bumper cars.

“’m not afraid,” Dean mumbled once they were alone.

“Of course not,” Cas reassured. His hand on Dean’s arm touched sun-warmed, freckled skin.

“I just like cars better than heights,” Dean smiled.

“Me, too,” Cas blustered.

“Liar.”

They had nearly reached the front of the line where a pimpled teenager was waving groups through.

“I like you better than the swings any day.”

Dean’s face was pink again, as they separated and went to their cars. He was a single minded bumper car driver; he chased Cas around bumping him at every chance, throwing his head back in delight. Cas gave as good as he got, but every hit he returned only made Dean laugh harder.

“That was the best!” Dean exclaimed once they were done. Gabe had had a longer line for the swings, and Hannah and their moms were occupied on a bumblebee roller coaster, so Dean and Cas got back into the line. 

Once back on the ride, Dean doubled his efforts to bump Cas’s car. Every time Cas would get frustrated, Dean would howl with laughter and pursue him harder.

When they were done, Dean beamed, “This is the best day! I wish we could—“

He grabbed Cas’s wrist and pulled him towards the side of one of the exhibit halls. There were a bunch of small booths against the wall, but Cas couldn’t make out what they were.

As they neared the mystery booths, silly, smiling faces became clear. They were photo booths.

“Have any quarters?’ Dean grinned, breathless.

Cas dug through his pockets until he found the necessary fifty cents. Dean tugged him into the booth once they were in the slot.

They posed for four quick photos, making funny faces. Dean’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Cas couldn’t contain his own smile.

Dean, however, merely frowned at the strip and tossed it towards Cas. “You keep this one, I want a new set.”

They repeated the action, making four new faces and spending two more quarters.

Once again, Dean was unhappy with the results.

“Dean,” Cas admonished. “Don’t you want to play any games? I’m almost out of quarters.”

“This is important, Cas,”

“Maybe it would help if you told me what you want me to do.”

“Can’t,” Dean said. “I’ll know it when I see it.”

They went through another dollar and a half before Cas declared it the last time no matter what; he was out of quarters.

Before the first click, Dean grabbed Cas in a chokehold and rubbed his hair with a balled up fist. Cas’s shocked expression was saved for posterity in the subsequent flash. 

“How is that going to improve the picture?” Cas grumbled before the next flash.

Dean shrugged. “I was trying something different. I’ll fix your hair.”

Dean’s hand moved to brush through Cas’s unruly, flyaway strands and the second flash went off.

“I just want a piece of today to take back to my dad’s,” he whispered.

The third click of a camera took in Dean’s soft smile, and Cas was struck with such fondness that he threw his arms around his friend for the last picture.

“What was that for?” Dean stammered.

Cas didn’t understand Dean’s fluster and had to practically shove him out of the photo booth. “You’re my best friend,” he offered dumbly.

“You’re such a dork,” Dean grinned and pulled the photos out of the printing slot.

“How’re the pictures?” Cas asked.

“They’ll do,” Dean quipped, but he was beaming at the photos in his hand. Cas tried to see them too, but Dean pulled them out of his reach, folded them in half, and stuffed them in his pocket. “Come on, buddy, let’s go ride the bumper cars again!”


	5. January 24, 1990

“Dean! Come down here and set the table!” the voice of Dean’s stepmom, Kate, drifted from downstairs, audible even over the sound of the music in Dean’s ears. It was Dean’s birthday and he was still expected to do housework. There were awesome new things to play with; Dean’s mom had given him a Walkman—the source of the music he was using to drown out his stepmom—a week ago at their last visitation, and she’d dropped off a present from Cas, too. Dean had unwrapped the box immediately, and it contained a real camera, a fresh roll of film, a bunch of candy, and a book— _The Neverending Story_. It wasn’t an expensive camera by any means, but it meant that he could document his summer, taking pictures of his mom and Cas, even Gabe and Hannah. 

Dean hid his new presents under his bed and gave Sammy a smack to the head as he walked by his little brother. “Hey, dinner’s almost ready.”

“I’m doing homework,” Sam mumbled, head down and immersed in a math book.

“Finish it after dinner.”

“We’re having cake after dinner. It’s your birthday, remember.” He enunciated every syllable of the word as if Dean was an idiot or something.

Dean took his time going downstairs, running his hand down the banister, and went into the kitchen where his stepmom was cooking.

“Hey, I thought we were having burgers,” Dean frowned at the scent of roast chicken in the air.

“Chicken was on sale.”

A store bought cake sat on the counter below the cabinet where Dean pulled four plates and glasses. He fervently wished it was pie, instead. Maybe pecan. Or cherry.

“No pie?”

His stepmother stirred some potatoes on the stove and shot a look over her shoulder. “Cake is for birthdays, Dean. Pies are for summer barbeques and Thanksgiving.”

“But I like pie.”

The front door clicked open, which meant that Dean’s dad was home. Before he could make it into the kitchen from the front door, the phone rang and Dean could hear his dad answer it.

“Who?” Pause. “From school?” Long pause. “Why are you calling?” Pause. “Yes, I know it’s Dean’s birthday.” He huffed and shouted down the hall, “Dean, phone!”

Dean rushed to the phone, curiosity and interest making him careless, and nearly ran into his father as he answered the phone.

“Hello, Dean,” said a familiar voice.

“Cas!!!” Dean’s dad had made it to the kitchen, but turned as he stopped in the doorway and stared curiously when Dean shouted.

“Happy birthday!”

“How?” Dean sputtered.

A low chuckle from his friend spread warmth through Dean’s chest.

“I got your number from your mom, and I got a job!”

“A job?--you’re ten years old, dude,” Dean scoffed. He could hear his stepmom shout for Sam to come downstairs and the slap of bare feet against the stairs.

“I reshelve books at Mr. Marv’s bookstore. My mom set it up. It’s pretty much torture listening to him all day, but he pays under the table.”

“That’s so cool!” Dean couldn’t help but gush.

Dean could hear the pride in Cas’s voice as he agreed. 

“The camera and the book are awesome, man,” Dean said.

“Benefits of my new job.”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t get a big head over this. You’re still just my dorky friend.”

Cas chuckled again. “Your dorky friend with an after school job.”

“I miss you so much, man,” Dean lowered his voice. “I can’t wait for this summer.”

“Me neither,” Cas’s voice was smiling. “Speaking of which—I told your dad I was a friend from school. I thought that was safer. I don’t want to make things weird at your dad’s house.”

Dean released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Well, you probably have lots of fun birthday stuff to do, so I’ll let you go,” Cas stammered.

“Nah, man. We’re not doing anything special.”

“Not even pie?”

“Ha!” Dean barked. His outburst caught the attention of his father again, who frowned in his direction. “We’re having cake because ‘pie isn’t for birthdays’” he finished in an imitation of his stepmom.

“We’ll have pie when you get here for the summer. Maybe your mom will teach us her recipe,” Cas reassured.

“Yeah,” Dean smiled. He had never been more grateful for his best friend, and for his summers with his mother.

“Dean!” His dad roared from the kitchen table. “Get to dinner. It’s getting cold!”

“Bye, Dean.” Cas must have heard Dean’s dad through the phone. “I’ll see you in June.”

“Bye, Cas. This was the best birthday present I got.” Dean had probably never meant anything more. He placed the receiver on the base and turned around.

“Was that Cas?” Sam asked. Dean jumped a foot at the sudden appearance of his little brother.

"Yeah,” Dean said, affecting a casual tone.

“How come I didn’t get to talk to him?” Sam pouted.

“’Cause he’s my friend, doofus,” Dean grumbled.

“If he calls again, can I say hi?”

“If you don’t tell dad that he’s my friend from mom’s.”

Sam looked up at him skeptically. “I won’t.” The opportunity to talk to the mysterious Cas was more alluring than being a tattletale. “Dad says come to dinner.”

Sam crossed back to the kitchen, and Dean followed.

“Who was that?” his dad asked as soon as Dean was seated at the table. 

Dean took a chicken wing—both drumsticks had already been claimed. “Friend from school.”

“Damn weird name. Why didn’t he just say happy birthday at school like a normal person?”

Dean took a serving of potatoes, even though they looked runny and lumpy. “Not in my class. I only see him at weekly assemblies and stuff.”

“Hmmph,” was the only response his dad gave to that, but he didn’t ask any more questions.

With Cas and his mom’s presents and phone calls from both of them for his birthday, Dean was certain that being eleven was going to be the best year.


	6. Summer 1990

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer 1990 and the boys are eleven years old.

Being eleven was the worst! Everything sucked, and the only thing that got Dean through it was that he got to get away from it all. His mom knew, of course, but Dean hadn’t been able to put it in writing and tell Cas. He was being replaced—replaced by a kid who would do as he was told, who wouldn’t disappoint dad, who wouldn’t be a screw up like Dean was.

So yeah, of course he only became more disappointing. His grades dropped—in everything but English—and he was in danger of failing fifth grade. Summer school would have meant not getting to go to his mom’s, and he had to go to his mom’s—where people actually loved him. Dean was ready to just repeat the grade and not go on with his class to middle school; Mary disagreed and stepped in. Dean would attend summer school at the local elementary school in Tulsa—Cas’s school—and improve his math, science, and social studies grades. Dean didn’t have any interest in going to school all summer; he had plans with Cas.

But Cas wasn’t even there. It was Saturday morning, the day after Dean arrived, and he had gone straight to the Novak’s. Gabe was there, Hannah was there, and Mrs. Novak was there, but Cas was gone. He had his job at Mr. Marv’s bookstore all morning. Dean trudged back to his mom’s apartment to have breakfast. 

He poured a bowl of cereal and cold milk and sat on the sofa watching lame cartoons. The cushions shifted as his mom sat next to him and ran a quick hand through his hair. “You’ll have a good summer despite summer school, sweetheart.”

“I don’t care about summer school.”

“It only lasts six weeks,” his mom reassured.

“Cas wasn’t home,” Dean mumbled into his spoon.

“Ah,” his mom breathed. “You think he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore?”

“Mom!” Dean wormed away from her comfort, leaving his half eaten bowl of cereal on the coffee table.

“Things are changing; you’re growing up. But I know that he still cares about you just as much as he ever did. Just like me. And Sammy. And your dad.”

Dean went into his room and slammed the door shut. This summer was supposed to be awesome. It was his last chance for things to be normal. When he went back to his dad’s it was going to be crying all night, and having to change diapers, and he was probably going to have to cook dinner and do the laundry.

His mom left him alone for the rest of the morning. He grabbed the book Cas had given him for his birthday out of his bag and flopped onto his bed. He rolled over onto his side and noticed something stuck between his bed and his nightstand. He must have knocked it off the nightstand when he put down his stuff the day before. He yanked it out and found a paper bag taped shut with a white envelope on the front. His name was written in very familiar handwriting on the front.

He opened the bag first. It was full of candy: taffy and peanut butter cups. The note said in Cas’s clear, small writing:

**Hello, Dean,**  
**Welcome home! I’ll see you tomorrow!**

He made no mention of having to work or anything. Guess he forgot. The candy was Dean’s favorite, though, and he started tearing them open and popping them in his mouth.

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew he was being awoken by a heavy weight on his chest and the strong scent of chlorine.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas smiled, once Dean had opened bleary eyes.

“Hey, Cas. Why are you wet?”

“Swim meet.” Cas sat down on the bed next to Dean. His damp hair stuck to his face and ears, but he was beaming.

“I thought you had to work.”

“Yeah.” Cas rolled his eyes. “Marv got in a shipment yesterday and wanted me to stock it this morning. It sucks, but it pays the bills.”

It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. “What about the swim meet?”

“Dude, I have to wear a speedo. No one wants to see that,” Cas deadpanned, tilting his head down and giving Dean a knowing look. It was enough to break the tension and Dean released a deep laugh, leaning against Cas. Cas nudged him back shoulder to shoulder. “You okay?”

“’M failing school. I gotta do summer school.”

“Crap,” Cas breathed. “When do you have to go?”

“Starts next week,” Dean frowned.

“How long?”

“Six weeks, from 8:00-3:00.”

Cas let out a long, whistling breath. “How bad are you failing?”

“Shut up.” Dean shoved at Cas’s shoulder, but there wasn’t a lot of anger behind it. “Math, Science, Social Studies.”

“Then we’ll study together in the afternoons.” He was trying so hard to be understanding.

“Just what I wanna do all summer—“

“Half the summer.” 

Dean shrugged, and Cas put his arm around his friend and squeezed. They didn’t talk about crappy stuff anymore, but stuffed their faces with the candy Cas had given him and made plans to spend all of Cas’s hard earned money. 

* * *

“Oh my God, you’re such losers.”

“Shut up, Hannah.” Cas glared at his sister.

They were sitting at the Novak kitchen table, poring over a math book. Gabe had made them malted milkshakes and some sort of seasoned crackers with ranch dressing mix. Hannah kept trying to steal them to get attention, but Cas would bat her hand away disinterestedly.

"I hate fractions,” Dean grumbled.

“You like pie,” Cas smiled.

“Not the one we made.” Dean grimaced at the memory. His mom had tried to teach them her recipe, but neither of them could cook past macaroni and cheese or scrambled eggs. The crust had been tough, the filling gummy, and the whole thing was overcooked.

“Hey, Gabe,” Cas turned to his brother who was watching TV on the sofa. “Feel like helping us make pie?”

Gabe looked thoughtful. “On one condition: I get a copy of Dean’s mom’s recipe to do with as I wish in perpetuity.”

Dean nodded, and Gabe jumped up off the couch, rubbed his hands together and said, “We need a trip to the grocery store. Cas, you got enough cash?”

All four of them had bus passes—Dean used his to get to school and Cas had to get to Marv’s bookstore and the swimming pool—so they hopped onto the bus to the grocery store. They split up, Dean and Cas handling the dairy products, Gabe picking up the cherries, and Hannah handling the baking aisle. Cas paid, since he was the only one with a job, and they set forth for home, butter, sugar, and cherries in tow.

Mrs. Novak was home from work when they got there, but she shooed them out of her kitchen, so the four of them moved to Dean’s apartment. Dean grabbed his mom’s recipe from the recipe box in the cupboard and handed it to Gabe.

“I need two and a half cups of flour and—ooh, your mom uses both butter and shortening. Nice. Good flavor from the butter, good texture from the shortening. Probably a replacement for lard which has gone out of fashion. Cas, you’re handy with a knife, so cube me twelve tablespoons of the butter and eight tablespoons of the shortening and then stick them both in the freezer. Dean, you’re on fraction duty, so measure out the flour.”

Cas and Dean shared a look before getting down to their assignments. They mixed the dough like Dean’s mom had taught them using two knives; Gabe made sure they didn’t use too much water or overmix. Hannah pitted cherries, getting her hands stained red. Soon, they had a respectable looking pie in the oven and a kitchen covered in flour.

“Well, fellas,” Gabe said, collapsing on the sofa. “Hannah and I are going to watch Nickelodeon. You have some cleaning up to do.”

“This is so much better than studying,” Dean whispered, as he scrubbed flour off his mom’s cupboard.

“Cleaning?” Cas smirked. “Don’t worry, Dean, we’ve got plenty more studying to do this afternoon.”

How Hannah managed to get cherry juice on the ceiling, Dean would never know, but he had to climb on the counter to reach it. Even then he was too short, so he and Cas grabbed the mop and Dean used it on the ceiling, raining drops of dirty water on his head. Before helping him down, Cas ran to his room and came back with the camera he’d given Dean for his birthday. He snapped a picture of Dean looking like a fool.

“For posterity,” he snickered. They’d already used up two rolls of film in the first few weeks of the summer. Most of the pictures were dumb stuff like this, but they were reminders of people who actually cared. Cas helped Dean off the counter and they finished cleaning, so that it was spotless when Dean’s mom came home from work with diner leftovers. The Novaks and the Campbells separated for dinner; Gabe, Cas, and Hannah returned home where their mom had prepared sweet and sour chicken and rice, while Dean and his mom feasted on fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and peas (which Dean didn’t eat). The two families reunited at Dean’s for pie after dinner.

“Dean cuts,” Cas commanded. He handed Dean a serrated knife and a pie spatula. Cut it in half.”

Dean complied and drew a straight line down the middle with the knife.

“Good,” Cas smiled genuinely. “Now cut each half into three pieces.”

Dean did as he was told again. “Uh, just pretend those are equal,” he laughed shakily at his uneven knife work.

“Count the pieces,” Cas suggested.

Once more, Dean did as he was told and found six pieces of perfectly made pie—one for each of them. He told Cas so, and his friend smiled broadly in return.

“So, one third of one half is…” Cas prompted.

“One sixth,” Dean answered.

“You just multiplied fractions.”

“Cool.”

* * *

A week later, they were hanging out in Dean’s room, throwing paper airplanes across the tiny space.

“I think I want a pizza party or something for my birthday,” Cas said from his perch on Dean’s bed.

“What, no water park?” Dean sat up from the floor, startling the cat, who darted out his open door.

"Nah,” Cas dismissed. “I’m in the water three to four times a week.”

“Oh, so you want like friends from school?”

“Yeah, and swim team. You can’t have a pizza party with four people, right?”

Dean liked the water park. He liked being there for Cas’s birthday, like the six of them were a family together. Cas still kept him separate from his time at the pool, never letting him come to swim meets on the weekend, but showing up in the afternoon stinking of chlorine. He’d never met Cas’s other friends. It was always just the two of them, unless Gabe and Hannah tagged along. An uneasy feeling settled in his gut.

“Cool,” he lied.

Cas threw his latest paper creation across the room. “I bet if I cut and folded a tab at the back, I could launch it with a rubber band,” he mused. “Then it’d go super far.”

“Do you have a best friend at school?” Dean asked, interrupting Cas’s thoughts on paper airplane trajectory.

“Sure, I have a lot of friends at school.”

Dean wasn’t able to let it go. “Who’s your best friend?”

“You’re my best friend,” Cas said with conviction. It should have been enough for Dean, and a year ago it would have been.

“But you have a best friend at school, too,” he insisted.

“Uh, Balthazar is probably my closest friend,” Cas finally admitted.

“How come you don’t hang out with him over the summer?”

Cas looked affronted. “I hang out with you over the summer,” he professed. There was such sincerity in his voice that Dean felt a pang of guilt, but still he pressed on.

“So you don’t see him all summer?”

“He’s on swim team with me. I see him plenty.”

“Is that why you don’t want me to go to swim meets and stuff?” Dean asked.

“I don’t want anyone to go to swim meets. Gabe’d make fun of my swim suit, and I’d be so nervous, I’d mess up.”

Dean let that settle for a moment. Cas clearly thought the discussion was over, as he started working on another paper airplane. He had no reason to lie to Dean; maybe he did just want to avoid the drama of them seeing him compete in a funny swimsuit. Dean, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that Cas was ashamed of him, that he didn’t want his friends from school to know about Dean. These dark thoughts eventually won out again.

“You should totally have a pizza party,” he said with mock enthusiasm. “Invite Balthazar and all your other friends.”

“Nah,” Cas said casually. “The water park would be awesome. Just the six of us.”

“Good idea.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why are you being a jerk about this? It’s my birthday,” Cas groused.

“I’m not being a jerk,” Dean protested, even though he was lying. He was 100% being a jerk, but it was Cas’s responsibility as Dean’s supposed best friend to just deal with it. 

“You are being a jerk. I don’t understand what I did to deserve it. You have friends at school, too. You tell me all about them: Victor, Garth….”

“They’re not really my friends,” Dean admitted. “They’re just the kids of my dad’s friends.”

“You do everything like your dad?”

Now that was a low blow.

“What do you know about dads?!?” Dean scoffed. 

He watched Cas’s face drop, eyes go big and wide, before it closed off and his eyes narrowed and turned cold. Without a word, he climbed off Dean’s bed, stepped over his outstretched legs, and out of Dean’s room. Seconds later, Dean heard the slam of his front door and Cas’s footsteps in the hall.

* * *

“Alright, what happened,” Dean’s mom asked as she stroked a hand through his hair. 

He escaped her caress and stood up from the sofa. “Nothing’s wrong, mom,” he lied.

“Of course nothing’s wrong, but Cas hasn’t been over in three days, and you haven’t been to see him in just as many.”

“We’re not joined at the hip, mom,” Dean grumbled.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she laughed.

“Yeah, well, he’s got more important things going on than me.”

Dean wandered off to his room, leaving his mom on the sofa alone. She didn’t understand. Cas was just one more person who didn’t need Dean, didn’t want Dean around, and had a hundred better people in his life than Dean.

Voices carried from the living room. He recognized Cas instantly, of course, and his mom was with him. He was not happy.

“Because he was a jerk,” Cas shouted.

“Castiel!” Dean heard his mother admonish.

They spoke too softly for Dean to hear anything more clearly, even in the small apartment. A minute later, there was a small knock on his door, and it opened a crack before he could answer. His mom’s face was serious through the opening.

“You should tell him,” she said softly.

“Tell him what?”

“How you’re feeling.”

Dean turned away from her, and she left. He could hear her sighing as she walked away through the door she had obviously left open. A minute or two passed before he could hear Cas breathing from the doorway.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting from me,” Dean said without turning around. “You don’t know anything about dads.”

“Nope,” Cas agreed.

“So why are you mad at me, then?” Dean continued talking to the wall.

There was a moment of silence, and then, “I have a swim meet tomorrow. It’s at 11:00. If your mom’ll let you take the bus by yourself, take the 318 to 66th, then switch to the 471 and get off at 61st.”

Dean turned around to find Cas looking at him with wide eyes.

“I like pizza,” Dean offered sheepishly.

Cas’s smile was soft and reached his blue eyes. “Then we’ll have pizza when we go to the water park next weekend. I already asked your mom.”

“You don’t—“ Dean began, but Cas cut him off.

“I just wanted my friends from school to finally meet you. They think I made you up.”

“I’m gonna meet Balthazar tomorrow.”

Cas crossed the threshold into Dean’s room and walked towards the bed where Dean was sitting. “You’re going to hate him,” he smirked. “He’s kind of a jerk most of the time. Not just every once in a while.”

Dean smirked back. “Then why are you friends with him?”

Cas sat next to Dean and threw his arms around him. “You’re in Kansas all of the school year. I have to eat lunch with someone.”

Dean choked back a sob. “My stepmom is having a baby,” he finally admitted through his tears.

“That sucks,” Cas said into the top of Dean’s head.

An unexpected laugh escaped Dean’s lips, and he settled into Cas’s arms. Cas tightened them around him, squeezing until it almost hurt. Dean confided in him all the things that had been worrying him, about being a failure and how he was being replaced by a new brother. Cas just let him babble until it was long past their bedtimes, promising how everything was going to be easier once summer school was over in a few weeks and reminding him that he was already replaced by Sam.

“Hey,” Dean argued.

Cas shrugged. “Your new baby brother is just Sam’s replacement.”

“Thanks.” Dean said it sarcastically, but he really meant it.

Cas’s mom let him sleep over that night, and Dean went with Cas to his swim meet in the morning. Cas’s tiny swimsuit was as hilarious as promised, but Dean refrained from teasing him about it. Especially when Cas won first place. They celebrated with ice cream and Dean got to meet one of Cas’s friends, but after a half an hour with Balthazar, Dean had lost all interest in meeting any of the rest of them.

As he and Cas took the bus back to the apartment building, Dean put his hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Man, you are so lucky you have me as your friend all summer,” he said.

“I know,” Cas replied with a soft smile, even though what he actually had to know, especially after the previous evening, was that Dean was, in fact, the lucky one. He was never going to let Cas go.


	7. August 1990

July faded into August, and Mary watched as Dean’s friendship with Castiel flourished, despite, and perhaps because of, the difficulty early in the summer.

“Do you ever worry they’re _too_ close?” She asked Naomi as they shared a pitcher of iced tea in the park. The remains of lunch littered the picnic table, and the kids had scurried off without cleaning up to play a game of soccer: Cas and Dean versus Gabriel and Hannah.

“Are you suggesting—“ Naomi narrowed her eyes.

“No,” Mary reassured her. “They’re still too young to worry about that. Anyway, Dean has quite an interest in girls. It’s just that they spend the summer wrapped around each other, I worry it’s too much.”

Naomi sipped her drink thoughtfully. “When I was young I had one friend I liked more than all the others. It’s not uncommon. Then I discovered boys and we grew apart. They’re still at that age where a best friend is everything.”

“I suppose,” Mary consented and dropped the subject.

The truth was that she was slightly worried about _that_. She was worried when Castiel came to visit Dean’s room during the school year, and she’d find him fast asleep on Dean’s bed, face buried in his pillow as if he fell asleep smelling it. She worried when Dean watched Cas like Angel the cat watching a bird from a window, fascinated by every graceful move. She worried when they whispered secrets to each other with their hands touching each other’s wrists and elbows. They were growing up, but they were only growing closer each summer. Even if Naomi couldn’t see it, or could better ignore it, Dean and Castiel were closer than most best friends, and their friendship was only becoming more intense.

Mary Campbell was not homophobic. She liked that gay character on _Thirtysomething_ just fine, and she’d always felt so bad for poor Steven Carrington. She held no moral superiority like some people did over what strangers did in their own homes. She just wanted grandbabies. She wanted an easy life for her son. A normal life. A _healthy_ life. There was nothing wrong with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I don't think Mary Winchester _is_ homophobic. Her point of view would have been considered very understanding and forward thinking in the early nineties. HIV/AIDS was very much a concern (and don't forget that it still is), and Mary would have seen her son's possible homosexuality (being bisexual would probably not have crossed her mind) as being a death sentence. 
> 
> Steven Carrington was a character on _Dynasty_ who was gay.


	8. Summer 1991

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 1991, and they are twelve years old.
> 
> This chapter has:
> 
> Castiel/Charlie.
> 
> I know, I know, I know. Heteronormativity at work, my friends. It's all innocent and only exists in this chapter.

The next year had none of the drama of the previous one. Dean had survived a new baby brother. They named him Adam and he was a wrinkled, ugly thing when he was born. By the time summer had come around, he had grown cuter and was actually a lot of fun. He smiled whenever Dean held him—which was often—and Dean found himself actually going to miss the little guy when he went away. Not enough to not go, of course. Arriving at his mom’s and having Cas by his side were what got him through each and every stinky diaper change.

June passed in a rush, and it was soon Gabe’s birthday. They had pizza for dinner to celebrate; it being Gabe, they then had ice cream sundaes for dessert. Sure, he obviously thought it was lame, given the number of eye rolls, to spend his birthday with his mom, his ten and eleven-year-old siblings, his twelve-year-old neighbor and his neighbor’s mom, but he placated them all. His resignation turned to genuine joy, however, when he received his one and only birthday present. It was crappy, for sure, ancient and rusting, and one of the seatbelts in the backseat was useless, but for Gabriel Novak’s sixteenth birthday, he got a car.

It came with so many caveats that he may have well have received a tricycle. He had to drive his younger siblings and, therefore, Dean around, he couldn’t get any tickets, not even parking tickets, for six months, and he couldn’t have more than one friend in the car at any time. For Cas and Dean, however, it was going to change their lives, and it was glorious.

Things were changing all around. Dean didn’t have summer school after a successful school year (despite a crying baby brother). Cas did swim team through school instead of through the local pool, so their only trips there were for fun, even though Cas could kick his ass when they swam laps. Both Dean and Cas had started new schools with sixth grade, which meant new friends. Dean still hung out with Garth, Rudy, and Victor, but Gordon was at a different school. They added Ash, who was cool, if weird, and sometimes hung out with a girl named Jo. Cas had lost Balthazar, who had moved back to England, but gained some kid named Charlie who was visiting his grandparents for the month of June. Dean joined Cas in working at Marv’s bookstore, which may have meant half the income for each, but at least they got to spend their time together—and pick their next books.

Cas talked about Charlie a lot, actually, but Dean was able to quell his jealousy over Cas’s new best friend. In fact, unlike the previous summer, Cas was pretty anxious to have Dean meet the famous Charlie. He was certain they’d have tons in common. Charlie loved TV and movies, cartoons, comic books, video games, and computers. Dean thought maybe he’d hit it off with this Charlie and everything would still be cool.

So it was a pretty big surprise when he and Cas went to meet this Charlie at the arcade about a week before Cas’s birthday, only to find a very pretty, bubbly, redheaded girl. He pulled Cas aside.

“Is Charlie your girlfriend?” he demanded.

“Yeah, I guess,” Cas shrugged. He turned back towards Charlie and gave her a sweet smile. She did that weird hand symbol from the old _Star Trek_ in return. Dean’s stomach seized as he watched them be all silly-sweet. He hadn’t been prepared to share his best friend with a girl.

“Hey, are you losers gonna play or talk about me behind my back all day?” Charlie called out. “I need a decent competitor to up my game.”

Dean half expected Cas to reply _yes, dear_ , but he just tossed Dean a wry smile and joined his girlfriend.

The worst part was that Dean liked her, not _liked_ liked her the way Cas apparently did, but maybe as a sister or something. She was everything Cas had said she was, and they were all three going to walk back to the apartment building and watch TV together. Dean could only manage a twinge of self-doubt as he watched Cas take her hand as they walked home. Charlie was awesome.

* * *

The summer went on, and Charlie became a part of it all. She joined them at the water park for Cas’s birthday. She helped them beat three high scores at the arcade, which was awesome. Everything was awesome, in fact, until the day that Cas told him that he maybe wanted to be alone with Charlie that evening.

“What?—like _alone_ alone? Dude, what do you think she’s gonna let you do?”

“I’d never take advantage,” Cas replied, affronted.

“Yeah,” Dean laughed. “You try something and she’s gonna slap you upside the head.”

“True,” Cas admitted. “But that is part of what I like about her.”

“You like ‘em feisty, huh,” Dean grinned salaciously.

“Don’t be crude, Dean,” Cas frowned. They were in Dean’s room; the door was open, so Angel, the cat kept trying to come into the room. Dean threw chips from the bowl on the floor and pieces of paper at him, so he wouldn’t, and Dean’s room would stay somewhat cat hair free. His allergies were getting so bad that he was going to have to see a doctor. 

“So what are you gonna do?” Dean asked.

“I thought I’d get Gabe to drive us to the movies. Buy her some popcorn, maybe some Twizzlers.”

“What are you gonna see?”

“Think mother would let me see _Terminator II_?” Cas took a long gulp from a pop can and set it back down on the night stand. Condensation had collected in a ring on the surface, and in its new location, it started making a pattern like the Olympic Rings.

“Not likely. I bet Charlie’d like that _Rocketeer_ movie, though.”

"I thought we were gonna see that together,” Cas pouted and grabbed a handful of chips from the bowl.

“Hey, man, you gotta take care of your woman,” Dean laughed. 

Cas frowned at him suspiciously. “What do you know about women, Dean?”

“More than you,” Dean bluffed. 

Cas smirked through a mouthful of chip. “Well, we’ll see after tonight.”

* * *

Dean sat in his room all that evening. He wasn’t sulking or anything, he just felt weird about the whole thing. He knew Cas had a girlfriend—it’s not like that was news. He liked Charlie a lot, too, but no matter how much time the three of them spent together, she was still Cas’s _girlfriend_ , and Dean didn’t have one. _Maybe_ he was a little jealous.

His mom tried to get him to come out, but eventually she gave up and brought a plate of dinner to his room. He moved the hotdog around listlessly and picked at the baked beans and glazed carrots. Man, he hated carrots. Cas hated carrots, too, but he apparently liked carrot tops.

“Hey.” 

Dean looked up to find Cas standing in his doorway. Dean’s mom must have let him in. He sat down next to Dean on the floor and leaned back.

“What’s wrong with you, man?” Dean asked.

“I got dumped,” Cas shrugged. “Charlie and I broke up.”

“How come?” Dean tried to hide his smile.

Cas leaned in close and whispered, “I tried to kiss her in the movie theater.”

Dean snickered as Cas’s voice broke, but he recovered enough to be a supportive friend. “Did she actually slap you?”

“No,” Cas dismissed. “She just put up her hand to stop and me and said we needed to talk.”

“Dude, that is never a good sign.”

“Understatement,” Cas agreed. “When the movie was over, we sat in the lobby and she told me that she felt the same way about me that she did about you.”

“How does she feel about me, then?” Dean peacocked.

“Like you’re her brother,” Cas deadpanned, raising his eyebrows.

“Sorry, man,” Dean mustered up all the sympathy he could.

“It’s okay,” Cas shrugged. “I think maybe I feel the same way. She’s so pretty, and she’s so cool, but I’m glad I never kissed her.”

Dean was glad, too. He was glad that he wasn’t going to start feeling like a third wheel. What if he would have walked in on them kissing one day? Their break up saved him a lot of potential awkwardness, so it was only natural he’d be happy about it. It wasn’t like Cas was particularly sad, either.

“There are a lot of fish in the sea, Cas,” Dean offered unhelpfully.

Cas stared at him like he was a nutcase—which, maybe he was—before cracking up in hysterical laughter. “Okay, Dean,” he choked out once he recovered. “I’ll just go fishing. Hope I find a nice tuna or something,”

Dean’s face reddened. “So maybe we’re both a little young to be worrying about that,” he shrugged.

“I think so,” Cas agreed.

* * *

“Have you read these?” Charlie asked, a trio of huge books in her hands.

Dean examined them closely. Cas was in nonfiction, restocking every book Marv had on the Peloponnesian War. Some college student had taken them all off the shelf and left them in a pile by one of the comfy reading chairs.

“Is this like _The Hobbit_?” He asked, as he read the name of a familiar author.

“Yeah!” She shouted, far too loud for a bookstore. Cas gave them both an exasperated, but fond, look from his position on the ladder. “I love _The Hobbit_!”

“I have to read these,” Charlie muttered.

“We all have to read these,” Dean agreed.

Cas rolled his eyes when they brought him the trio. They pooled their money and bought the three books. It was a quick game of roshambo to determine who got the first book first. Dean won, so they stuck all three copies in his backpack.

It took Dean the better part of a week to finish the first book. They were all impatient for him to get done, but, since Cas and Charlie weren’t reading yet, they still wanted to hang out and have fun during the day. Dean just wanted to read. It was as awesome as _The Hobbit_ , but more layered and super dense. He felt like a rock star when he finally finished the first book and ran over to Cas’s to drop it off.

Cas answered the door in his pajamas, squinting against the light he’d just turned on. Dean had forgotten to check the time. Cas rubbed one of his bleary eyes and wiped his hand off on his worn T shirt.

“Dean, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Dean breathed. “ _Nothing_. Oh, man, nothing’s wrong. I just finished the first book and thought you’d want it,” he finished lamely, all of his energy gone in the embarrassment of his mistake.

“Great!” Cas eagerly took the book from Dean’s hand where he’d still been holding it out like an idiot. “Thanks, Dean. Is it good?”

“It’s amazing!” Just like that, Dean’s energy was back. “I don’t want to ruin it for you, but I’ll probably be up all night reading the next one.”

“You want hot cocoa?” Cas smiled indulgently. Dean followed him into the dark apartment, the only light the one in the hall that Cas must have turned on to answer the door.

Cas put milk to boil on the stove and moved to the cupboards to get the necessary ingredients. He measured out sugar, cocoa powder, cinnamon, and a pinch of something red.

“Gabriel’s secret ingredient,” he whispered, showing the jar of cayenne pepper to Dean.

Cas poured the dry ingredients into the milk and handed a spoon to Dean with orders to stir. He leaned against the counter and reached into a new cupboard to get mugs. His T-shirt rode up as he stretched, and Dean had to stifle the desire to tickle the bare skin.

Soon they were seated at the kitchen table with two steaming mugs of cocoa and a plate of Oreos. There were mini marshmallows melting in the chocolatey goodness, just how Dean liked it.

“I’ll probably stay up all night reading, too,” Cas confessed.

“Hey,” Dean cried out, an idea forming in his mind. “Let’s take this over to my room and we can read together, that way you can tell me all your favorite parts as you read them. Better than a flashlight under the covers, right?”

“Okay,” Cas nodded. “Let me leave a note for mother.”

Five minutes later, they, their cocoa, and their books were tucked into Dean’s bed. They read until their eyelids drooped and words started to blend together. The next morning, when Mary found them fast asleep and cuddled together, she didn’t wake them up (though she did call Naomi Novak to be certain she knew where her son was). They’d be mortified, anyway, when they found themselves in that position, and she didn’t want to make it worse. Before she closed the door, however, she grabbed Dean’s little camera from its perch on his dresser and snapped a few photos just in case.


	9. Puberty:  1991-1992

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter spans from around fall 1991 to the beginning of summer 1992.
> 
> In this chapter you will find some:
> 
> Castiel/Meg
> 
> It's also where this starts earning its teen rating. This chapter contains:
> 
> Mentions of masturbation  
> Mentions of wet dreams  
> The physical changes that happen to a boy's body during puberty  
> Cas being a dense idiot ( _Oh, Cas, it's a good thing you're pretty_ )  
> Too much _italics_

It all started when Castiel noticed he looked different in the shower. School had given a talk in health class the year before about the changes they’d start to experience in their bodies, but it was a completely different thing to actually look _there_ and see that it was weird. 

His growth spurt _down there_ was the least of his problems. Because once it grew, it developed a mind of its own, and kept growing—and stiffening—at the worst possible times: when a teacher wanted him to go to the board and answer a question, on stage during rehearsal, waiting for the bus, while talking to girls. He was finally grateful for Gabe’s loose hand-me-down jeans. Once, it happened while he was on the phone with Dean, and it was so stubborn that he _had_ to touch himself—just a bit— through his jeans while Dean droned on about his stepmom babyproofing the house and throwing out his old favorite action figures. Later that night, Castiel had thought about how nice it had been to hear another voice while feeling _that way_. He bet it’d have been really nice to have another body there, too. Firm, but soft, yielding in all the right places, and— _oh crap_ —another change of pajamas. It was becoming more common for him to wake up sticky than not. The worst time it happened, however, was while showering between swim practice and classes in the locker room. He sometimes peeked to see how he compared to the other boys—which led to a panicked and very awkward discussion with Gabe where he learned he was not a genetic freak and was, in fact, _lucky_ —so he _knew_ someone else must have seen. The one place you never wanted that to happen was the locker room. 

As long as he was discreet (and kept it out of a public shower), however, most of these problems remained private. There was a lot more everyone could see. His hands and feet grew so fast that his mother refused to buy him anymore new shoes, and he walked around with pinched toes for a month. He shot up four inches, which made him taller than Gabriel, and all of his jeans were too short. It was mortifying, and he just wanted to bury himself in a hole until it was all over. Unfortunately, hiding away was not an option because, as he was starting to notice girls more—Meg was so pretty now, and Nora from English class—they were starting to notice him, too. Meg had taken to chasing him again, and she was often followed by a group of girls he didn’t even know, giggling whenever he looked their way.

Charlie became one of those tittering ninnies when he complained to her, even though she usually seemed immune. “I’m just surprised you still hang out with little old me,” she lamented dramatically, drawing attention to their table from the other McDonald’s patrons.

“What are you talking about?” he asked in a deep voice he still wasn’t used to. The first time he had called Dean after the last summer, it had taken five minutes of explanation to prove he was himself. The farce was repeated a month later in the opposite direction when Dean had a new deep voice himself.

“You’re the most popular boy in the seventh grade,” she replied in a voice that implied he should already know this.

“No, I’m not.” He wasn’t popular; he hadn’t ever been.

“You have a fan club. _Dude_.” She rolled her eyes.

“Why?” 

Again, she looked at him as if he were a mystery. “Because you’re dreamy,” she sighed sarcastically.

“I am?”

“ _I am?_ ” she parroted. “You really hadn’t noticed that attendance at swim meets doubled?”

“Because I’m _dreamy_?”

“That comes directly from Jane N., by the way,” she explained, popping the last bite of her burger in her mouth. “And I, by association with the cutest boy in the school, am also popular. They all want to know everything about you. I told them you read too much and like hamburgers.”

Cas was utterly perplexed by this new knowledge. He examined himself in the mirror a few days later. He’d lost some baby fat, sure, and, since he did swim team in the morning and ran track in the afternoons, it was being replaced with muscle. It’s not like he was ripped or anything, but he’d managed to escape the skinniness that some of his classmates had after a growth spurt. He had a deep tan all over (except where the speedo he still had to wear for swim team— _barely_ —covered), which made his blue eyes more intense, he guessed. So, maybe he was cute, and Charlie wasn’t just pulling his chain. He spent a good five minutes trying to decide which other boys might be as cute as him, until it became too weird.

By the time the school year had ended, Cas had attended his first make-out party, where he had been fought over by four girls. Meg had won and claimed her prize with her tongue in his mouth and his mark on her neck for all their classmates to see on Monday. It turned out that Castiel really, really liked kissing, and so did certain parts of his anatomy.

When Dean arrived for the summer he greeted his best friend with an opened mouth _whoa_ , and Cas supposed he really did look different. Dean looked different, too, though. He was taller, though not as tall as Cas, and his arms and legs were long and gangly. He was chubbier than he had been, too, with a wide, round torso. He still had baby fat in his cheeks, and he now actually looked younger than Castiel. Puberty was a strange thing. Dean was six months older than Cas, but Cas was further on his development. That was an odd thought, though—Dean going through the same changes Cas had. Growing hair, growing other things. Why was that thought so appealing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the information in this chapter comes from google. Since most of the info available is geared towards helping boys and their parents through the changes that come with puberty, it's rather vague as to the timing of everything and how they overlap. I've got no experience being a pubescent boy, so I did the best I could. Cas is definitely on the young side of the stuff that's happening, but that just makes everything more difficult for poor Dean.


	10. Summer 1992

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> Castiel/Meg  
> Dean/Meg
> 
> Plus:  
> Masturbation  
> Pornography magazines  
> Some suggestive dialogue

Dean was not having a panic attack. He was fine. Guys noticed other guys were good looking all the time. It was not a big deal. It was not a big deal, and he was not freaking out about it.

He liked girls. More and more each day. His friend Jo had started developing and Dean had definitely noticed that. He thought about girls all the time. This weirdness was nothing. A blip on the radar.

So he’d noticed that Cas had grown up—a lot. That he was starting to resemble a movie star rather than a seventh grader. It wasn’t like a thing. It was a simple observation. Non-judgmental and irrelevant. Cas had always been an attractive person. And, yeah, Cas had kind of won the puberty lottery, while Dean was still stranded in the muck. It was completely normal to be jealous of boys who were good looking. Especially when Dean was chubby, awkward, and disproportioned, and Cas was definitely not. 

It’s not like he _liked_ liked Cas. That would be weird. He just noticed things about him like a good friend would. Like he was taller. And super tanned. And his hands were so big, his shoulders broader, and his hair was starting to curl around his ears, too. He had an Adam’s apple, now, which—even though Dean had developed a more prominent one himself, too—seemed so suggestive on Cas. Like he was becoming a man. That thought sent an unbidden shiver through Dean’s spine. He didn’t understand why.

Girls were soft. Cas was angular, firm. He was starting to build muscle from his time on the swim team and from running track. He was all boy, and Dean wasn’t interested in boys that way.

“Hey,” Cas’s voice came from his doorway. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” Dean retorted. He didn’t look up at his friend. What if Cas was still hot?

“Okay.” Cas sounded unsure. “But you’re acting really weird.”

“You’re…weird,” Dean stuttered.

The bed sank as Cas sat next to him. Dean tried to ignore him, and maybe it would go away.

"I thought we’d meet Charlie for pizza tonight,” Cas offered gently. “But if you’re sick or something…”

“’M not sick,” Dean mumbled. 

“Then what’s wrong? You won’t look at me,” Cas lamented. His hand brushed Dean’s shoulder. “Dean,” he pleaded.

Finally, Dean turned to look at him and saw his best friend. Just Cas. Taller, and tanner, and smelling strongly of deodorant or cologne or something, but just Cas. Same old ordinary Cas. Dean sighed in relief. “I’m cool,” he breathed.

“Okay,” Cas smiled. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Oh, yeah, man,” Dean choked out through relieved laughter. “Never again.”

* * *

“No, no, no,” Charlie insisted, through a mouth full of pizza. “I’d be from Rohan.”

Dean and Cas shared a glance before turning back to their friend. “Hobbit,” they said together.

“No use denying it, Bradbury,” Dean laughed, nearly knocking over the Parmesan cheese shaker. “Embrace your hobbitness.”

“Bite me,” she growled, but there was little heat behind it. “I suppose you claim Rohan, then?”

“If the horse fits,” Dean snickered. “What about Cas?”

Charlie examined the other boy with mock seriousness. “Elf?” She diagnosed.

“Definitely elf,” Dean agreed. He took in Cas’s high cheekbones and bright eyes, but in a clinical, analytical way. “Sometimes I think he’s hiding a pair of pointy ears under that hair.”

Cas frowned at him pointedly, narrowing his eyes.

“Hey, man,” Dean laughed. “You could do worse than to be an immortal being known for its grace, skill, intelligence, and…you know,” he waved off, feeling his face redden.

Cas looked at him quizzically. They could hear Gabriel laughing with his friends in the arcade tucked in the corner, while Dean stewed in the intensity of Cas’s gaze.

“He means you’re pretty,” Charlie snickered.

"I don’t—“ Dean stuttered. The morning’s weirdness was not quite as forgotten as he’d hoped it was.

“Isn’t it strange?” Cas frowned. “Suddenly we’re in junior high and the only thing that matters is who’s cute.”

“Says the cutest boy in our class,” Charlie groaned.

It was Cas’s turn to blush. “I’m not the cutest boy in my class,” he mumbled.

“No, seriously,” Charlie proclaimed. “We had to write poems for English class and two“ —she held up her fingers for emphasis—”different girls wrote odes to Cas’s eyes”

Dean howled with laughter and nearly spit out his pizza.

“It’s mortifying,” Cas whined and hid his face in his hands.

“It wasn’t mortifying when your tongue was in Meg’s mouth,” Charlie grinned.

Cas turned even redder before running away to the restroom without another word.

“Seriously?” Dean turned to Charlie in surprise.

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “He didn’t tell you?”

Dean stared towards the restroom where Cas had disappeared to. “Should I go after him?”

Charlie shrugged. “Maybe Gabriel should handle it.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. He was Cas’s best friend; Gabe was just his brother. He and Cas talked on the phone every few weeks, but Cas had never told him any of this stuff. It hurt in a place Dean didn’t know he could hurt. He’d shared everything he had to share with Cas, while Cas hid all this crap from him. He was kissing girls—with tongue!!—and probably going to parties with all the popular kids of Tulsa. Dean bet they were drinking and smoking at these parties. He wondered if this Meg tasted like cigarettes when Cas kissed her.

“Nah,” Dean dismissed. “I’ll go talk to him.”

He made his way to the men’s room and pushed the door open. “Hey, Cas, I just wanted to see…” He trailed off as he realized his friend was standing at a urinal. “…you pee.”

“Jesus, Dean,” Cas swore, as he tucked it away and zipped up.

“I thought you were upset.”

“Well, yeah, maybe, but I thought I’d…” He gestured at the urinal he had just finished using. “It’s so tedious.”

“Peeing?” Dean snickered.

Cas rolled his eyes, and sighed dramatically. “You didn’t have to follow me, Dean. I’m fine.” He moved to one of the sinks and washed his hands.

“So what’s it like making out with a girl?”

Cas hummed thoughtfully as he regarded his face in the mirror. “Wet,” he deadpanned. “Soft, warm—it was nice.”

“Just nice?”

“What? You want details?” Cas turned and faced him with an unhappy frown on his face.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed.

“I gave her a hickey. I think she wanted one. I don’t know. It was very overwhelming.”

It was Dean’s turn to blush again. Cas turned around to face the mirror, but he could probably still see Dean sputtering in its reflection.

“She give you one?” Dean examined his friend’s neck in his reflection.

“No,” Cas admitted. “It was a couple weeks ago, anyway, any marks would have faded by now.”

He had a little smirk on his stupid face as he made eye contact with Dean in the mirror. 

* * *

Dean’s mom hadn’t yet given up obtaining custody of him and Sam, and that required getting a better job. She worked long hours on her feet at the diner, and the money wasn’t great, so she’d started taking night classes during the school year when Dean was in Kansas. Nine months later, she no longer worked at the diner, instead she was a dental assistant at a dentist’s office nearby. She continued with night school on her way to become a dental hygienist. She decided to take a light course load over the summer in order to spend more time with Dean, but there was still one day a week she was out all evening into the night. It was a lot easier for Dean to just sleep over at the Novaks and see his mom in the morning before she left for work. Gabriel gave up his bed for the sofa—he was too lazy to trek over to Dean’s room down the hall—so Dean and Cas had Cas’s room to themselves. They stayed up too late reading and playing Dean’s new gameboy. Sometimes they made prank calls to the kids Cas knew and Dean didn’t or to the pizza place, saying dumb things like asking if Dick Johnson was there or if there was a Lotte Fagina home. 

This night, Dean decided it would be funny to snoop through Gabe’s stuff. Gabe would have done the same thing in his shoes, so Dean didn’t feel guilty. Cas, on the other hand, sat on his bed, arms crossed and frowning. Dean was digging under Gabe’s bed, through stinky socks and old candy wrappers when he hit the jackpot. He held up his hard one prize.

“That’s a girly magazine, Dean,”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dean deadpanned. Cas rolled his eyes in reply.

Dean crawled up from the floor and sat next to Cas on the bed. He cracked open the magazine and got his first look at a fully naked woman. 

“Jesus,” Cas breathed. “Those are boobs.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. He felt warm all over.

“Crap,” Cas swore. Dean pulled his eyes away from the magazine to look at his best friend, only to see Cas’s pajamas were straining. He averted his eyes. 

Dean could feel Cas’s heavy breathing next to him. “It’s cool, man,” he reassured his friend. He wasn’t in the same state, but he still felt all tingly and lightheaded. He hazarded another glance at his friend---the top half—only to find him with his eyes shut and his face tense. 

“This happens all the time,” he lamented.

“Just go take care of it in the bathroom, man. I don’t mind.”

Cas hesitated. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Nah,” Dean lied. “We’ll just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Oh, good,” Cas sighed. “Can I?” He held out his hand for the dirty magazine, which Dean had rolled up tightly in his hand. He handed it off to his friend and didn’t watch as he carefully maneuvered his way out of the room.

This was so weird. Cas was on the other side of the wall, rubbing one out. Dean was in some weird state between turned on and weirded out. He didn’t do anything. Part of him wanted to, but another part knew that he would never recover from it. He forced himself to think about Adam’s dirty diapers and Bobby in a bikini, just in case. 

Cas came back from the bathroom about five minutes later, pink and flushed, with his bottom lip full and red from being bitten and his eyes bright.

Dean had to make the next trip to the bathroom.

* * *

His thing about Cas continued through the rest of the summer, but Dean tried not to think about it. It eventually became just another part of their friendship, like sharing books or baking pie, so Dean stopped trying to analyze it and started ignoring it. It wasn’t going to go away, so he just pretended it was normal. Some days were better than others.

“So, one of my friends at school is having a party for his birthday,” Cas said one day in early August as they walked back from the bookstore.’’

“And?” Dean prompted.

Cas swung the bag of books between them; they’d spent far too much of their hard earned money on the very books they were being paid to reshelve. “We should go,” he smiled.

“Dude, they’re _your_ friends.”

“Charlie’s invited, and I asked Bart if I could bring a friend.”

“Bart, like the Simpsons?” Dean joked. He didn’t want to meet the dumb kids who got Cas all year round. Charlie was cool, of course, but Dean didn’t like to share.

“I think he had the name first,” Cas deadpanned. Dean couldn’t help a laugh at his friend’s humor. “It’s a boy-girl thing, so it’s cool if we don’t go, I guess. It’ll be pretty lame; you won’t like the music, and there’ll probably be dancing or something.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

The party was at a church, in one of the rooms at the associated elementary school. The room was where they had Youth Group meetings and stuff like that. There was an assortment of big fluffy chairs and sofas, which were moved to the sides of the room to make a dance floor, there was a long table along one wall covered in bowls of chips and barbecue sandwiches on platters. A stereo churned out Boyz II Men, and, yeah, Dean hated it, but it was probably better to dance to than Zeppelin. A huge TV against one wall was turned off and some tall blond kid was leaning against it. He straightened when he saw Cas arrive with Dean and Charlie. He nudged a short, dark haired girl, who turned around and gave them a wicked smile.

“Castiel!” She sneered as she made their way towards the group.

Cas’s face had turned a bright shade of pink. “Hey, Meg,” he replied.

So this was the famous Meg. She was cute, but mean-looking, and super tiny. Dean had trouble picturing her making out with Cas, but she spent a good minute looking him up and down lasciviously. She turned her attention on Dean, and it was like being eyed by a wild animal.

“Figures that Castiel Novak would also have a cute friend,” she purred. “Meg Masters.” She held out her hand and Dean had the bizarre impression he was expected to kiss it.

Dean expected Cas to hang out with the friends from school he hadn’t seen all summer—or Meg-- but he stayed with Dean and Charlie most of the night. They chatted with the birthday boy and met a bunch of Cas’s other classmates. They all looked at Cas with stars in their eyes. Cas, for his part, was bashful of the attention, and his natural stoicism came out in full force. On the rare occasion Cas was pulled out onto the dance floor—more than once by a girl named Rachel—Dean leaned against the drinks table, where a huge punch bowl was filled with something acid green and vile, to watch.

“You gonna dance?” he asked Charlie, who had actually taken a cup of the disgusting punch.

“No way, man,” Charlie exclaimed. Her tongue was bright green. “None of these losers deserve me. But you should dance. Gilda’s really pretty.”

Dean glanced around the room to where Charlie was indicating. Gilda was pretty, but she didn’t seem to be looking for a dance partner.

“Nah,” Dean finally decided. “I’m gonna hit the head.”

“Sure,” Charlie intoned, attention still on the group of girls across the room. “Down the hall to your left, past the girl’s restroom.”

Dean didn’t make it to the boy’s restroom; he passed by what must have been the girls’ room when a strong arm grabbed him and pulled him through the door.

“What the hell?!” He exclaimed. The room was dark, but he could make out a pale, round face smirking at him.

“Hey, good looking,” Meg drawled. 

“Uh, Meg,” Dean shuttered. “This is the girls’ room.”

She smiled that same feral smile she’d greeted him with. “And we’re alone.”

Dean was an idiot. He knew it was a huge mistake, but curiosity and jealousy clouded his judgement and he leaned towards Meg and put his lips on hers.

She clearly wasn’t very skilled, though Dean doubted he was any better; she kissed sloppily and wetly, with her tongue curling into his mouth. He had the memory of Cas’s description of kissing her rattling through his brain, and somehow managed to remember that she liked hickeys, so he pulled away just far enough to glom onto her neck and apply suction. He could hear her laughing delightedly, and then it was over. Meg straightened out her top and fluffed her hair—had Dean put his hand in it?—and then left him alone in the girls’ restroom.

He didn’t know how he felt, but he didn’t get much of a chance to figure it out because he was no longer alone.

“Dean!” Charlie scolded. “I told you the second door. This is the girls’—“

“I know,” Dean admitted. “It’s a long story.”

Charlie waited while Dean used one of the stalls to relieve himself. She checked to make sure the coast was clear then they both went back to the party.

“Hey,” Cas greeted him warmly. “Your mom’ll be here in twenty minutes. They’re“—he pointed towards the rest of the group, who had converged around the sofas and chairs—“going to play Seven Minutes in Heaven or something. You want to lose at Foosball?”

Charlie had surprisingly joined the group who were going to make out or something. Dean hadn’t told her about Meg and he wasn’t going to tell Cas, either. Ever. Cas wouldn’t understand. Dean didn’t understand, himself. He thought maybe Meg did. She’d flashed him a conceited smile after they were done and told him _you’re welcome_ before leaving. Still, Dean felt pretty pleased with himself having his first French kiss, and that Cas noticed.

“You’re having a good time,” he smiled.

“Yeah, your friends are cool.”

Cas’s eyebrows shot up and his hands dropped from the handles. “Really?”

“Maybe,” Dean smiled. “They’re cool enough to like you.” 

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas warned. He had a radiant smile on his face, however, so Dean knew he wasn’t upset or anything. Dean scored a goal and threw his hands up to celebrate. Cas’s smile only grew warmer in the light of Dean’s success, and Dean was struck with such affection it made him weak in the knees.

At the other end of the room, a chosen pair was being escorted into the janitor’s closet. Everyone was oohing and ahhing over the couple and laughing at their awkwardness. He couldn’t make out their faces, but he could recognize both Charlie and Meg among the crowd, so it was no one he knew. He didn’t envy them. 

Dean was right where he wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The room that Bart's party takes place in is based on a room at my own grade school/church. Oh, Room 17, you were the location of so many Junior High dances, birthday parties, and Youth Group meetings. I once spent the night there. I recreated it here as it was when I was about 13 or 14. Of course, this was at a Catholic school/church, and, although Cas's family is Catholic in this fic (it'll probably get a mention in Part II, but in Part I, his religious grandparents' religion isn't specified, so I guess this is an irrelevant spoiler), Bart definitely isn't. Bart is, of course, the angel Bartholomew from Season 9, and he does have a story in this 'verse. If I can't fit it in, then I may even write a short fic in this series telling his story. Getting back to the point, I don't know anything about elementary schools that are connected to churches that aren't Catholic (being a former Catholic schoolgirl myself), so I don't have any idea if this is Bart's church or just a Catholic school in the neighborhood that had a convenient room. Cas and Bart definitely do not go to a private school; the Novaks don't have the money (though Naomi did try to get Gabriel into a private high school; had Gabriel gotten in, she would have gone to her parents for help paying) and aren't especially religious themselves, despite Naomi's upbringing (she and their father did, however, have the kids baptized in the Church as babies).


	11. February 12-14, 1993

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings for this chapter. There is the briefest mention of theoretical Dean/Pamela and of unrequited Castiel/unnamed girl.

For pretty much the first time in his life Dean wasn’t happy to see his mom on a weekend. It’s not like he had anything against his mom; she was still as awesome as ever. It was just that it was Valentine’s Day weekend and one of the kids at school was having a party. There was going to be a girl there, Pamela, who really liked Dean. She never left him alone at school, always telling him how cute he was and signing up as partners for school assignments. She was a little overwhelming, sure, but Dean loved the attention. It made him feel important and special, and now he was going to miss out.

Since it was Valentine’s Day, they were going to spend the whole weekend with his mom in Lawrence so his dad could take his stepmom away—they pawned Adam off on Dean’s step-grandparents. She got a motel room in town, where they were all three going to stay for the weekend. Any other weekend and it would have been awesome, but Dean couldn’t muster much enthusiasm this time.

His mom totally noticed, too, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Unfortunately, Sam didn’t have the same tact and blurted out, “Dean’s upset ‘cause he wanted to see a girl this weekend.”

“Sam!” Dean scolded him. Almost-ten-year-old brothers sucked.

His mom didn’t get upset, though. “Did you have a date, Dean?” she asked patiently.

“Nah,” Dean shrugged. “She was gonna be at a party I was invited to.”

Dean’s mom paused thoughtfully. “Saturday night?”

“Mmm hmmm.”

“Well, I’d be happy to take you if you still want to go tomorrow, okay?” She turned towards the passenger seat and smiled.

Dean cheered. He owed Sam a chocolate sundae or something to thank him for being a nosy brat. All of Dean’s hesitations faded; he really did have the coolest mom ever. 

It was another ten minutes to the motel his mom had booked. She had already dropped off her luggage before picking them up so there’d be room in her small trunk for their duffels. They pulled into the motel parking lot, stopped the car, and grabbed their bags. Dean’s mom tossed him the room key, so she could go get some pop cans from the machine around the corner and a few bags of chips or something for snacks. 

Dean opened the door to Room 207, but somebody was already in there.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas smiled. Dean ran to him and hugged his best friend. He’d never thought it possible for Cas to come to Kansas; they had talked about it years ago but knew it could never happen.

Eventually they pulled apart, and Cas turned to Sammy. “You must be Sam,” he intoned.

“Yeah,” Sam breathed. “Are you really Cas?”

Cas chuckled, “Uh huh.”

Dean’s mom came back, with enough pop for all of them. “I see you found your last birthday present, Dean. Sorry it’s a few weeks late.”

They were able to show Cas around Lawrence. Dean showed him his middle school and the high school he’d be attending in the Fall, and they had dinner at Dean’s favorite diner that had the best pie in Kansas. Dean’s dad and stepmom had already left for the weekend, so they used Dean’s key to visit their house.

When Dean pulled out his keys, Cas’s eyes widened. “Hey, I gave you that,” he said, pointing at the lanyard that acted as a key ring.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean blushed. “Doesn’t fit my wrist anymore.” He held up his arm to demonstrate, even though he’d outgrown it years before.

“I thought you’d lost it.” Cas beamed as he followed Dean into the house and up the stairs.

“This is mine and Sammy’s room,” Dean explained. It was a mess, so he sheepishly rearranged the junk on his bed. While in his room, Dean grabbed his old camera from its home in his desk drawer; there was half a roll of film from Christmas in the camera already and Dean grabbed a second from his stash. He snapped a couple of pictures of Cas in his bedroom, and every arrangement of the people he loved in his house together. Somewhere in a box were old pictures of his mom before the divorce in this house, when they were a real family, before everything fell apart. They were a family again, for just a few moments, and everything was perfect. When they left the house and Dean locked it up again, he took the camera and the rest of the film with them.

In the motel room, they watched _Aladdin_ on pay per view—which was okay for a lame movie—because Sam was a scaredy cat, but once he went to bed in the cot housekeeping had brought over, Dean and Cas watched _Batman Returns_ with all the lights off. It was like a little piece of summer plopped right in the middle of the rain and snow of February. Once Dean and Cas had put on their pajamas and slipped into the second bed, a little bit of the weirdness he’d felt during the previous summer reemerged. Cas radiated heat and every time he moved, the bed moved right along with him; it was more than Dean's hormones could take.

“How, man?” Dean finally choked out.

“It was mother’s idea. I've been—well, I liked a girl and I thought she liked me back, but she liked someone else. Mother says I've been moping.”

“That sucks,” Dean stated. He was starting to know what that felt like. Cas nodded emphatically in solidarity, though he hopefully had no idea how strongly Dean meant his words. Dean wanted to reach out and hold Cas’s hand where it lay on the bed between them, but he stopped himself. No matter how warm Cas’s hand would be, he’d probably think it was weird, and maybe he’d think Dean liked him or something. Dean drifted off still staring at Cas’s hand in the dim light that filtered in through the window.

The next morning, snow had gilded the edges of the cars in the parking lot and the motel sign advertising _VACANCY_. They were all bundled up for the cold, so Cas’s hand could provide no distraction. Sam got to choose the day’s activity and he wanted to go ice skating, so they all piled into the car and headed for the rink.

In line for the skate rental, Cas pulled Dean aside and whispered, “Dean, I don’t know how to ice skate.”

“Dude, you run track and swim, but you’ve never played ice hockey?”

“I’m better with the water when it’s, you know, wet,” he said with complete seriousness.

“You’ll do fine,” Dean reassured him.

Once they were on the ice, however, this proved to not be true. Cas was a disaster; slipping and falling every few feet. Sam and mom were making circles around the rink, but Dean and Cas had made little progress around the loop.

“Dude,” Dean finally groaned. “Take my hand.” He wasn’t even thinking; he’d forgotten his sleepy desires the night before--until he felt Cas’s gloved hand in his.

Cas was a little steadier with Dean’s support, but their gloves slipped against each other. Cas suggested, quite innocently, that they take off their gloves and brave the chill. Dean was mortified—people would assume they were gay—but he also had to admit that holding hands was a thing he wanted. Cas’s hand was smooth skinned and big and unaffected by the winter chill. Once they caught up with Dean’s family, Dean dropped Cas’s hand as he didn’t need the help anymore. If Dean had been honest with himself, Cas hadn’t needed it for half a circuit.

“Alright, boys,” Dean’s mom announced after they’d worn themselves out skating. “Let’s get some lunch.”

They had Chinese food for lunch; Dean ate so much chow mein and honey walnut shrimp he felt like he was going to burst. A tray of fortune cookies came with the bill, so Dean grabbed one and tore it open.

**Love can last a lifetime, if you want it to.**

“Lame,” Dean groaned and stuffed the fortune into his pocket.

“Mine says _A short stranger will soon enter your life with blessings to share._ I guess that’s you, short stuff,” Cas laughed as he ruffled Sam’s hair.

“Dean, do you still want to go—“ his mom began.

“No!” Dean interrupted pointedly. He hadn’t thought about that stupid party since he found Cas in his motel room, and any interest to go had long faded. He couldn’t take Cas to a party where all his classmates were going to be. As awesome as it was to have Cas in Lawrence, Dean wasn’t ready to share him with anyone else.

“Oh, well, I made plans. Can you boys find something else to do?”

Dean was utterly confused. His mom had made a date while they were staying with her?

“Mom’s gonna be my Valentine,” Sam announced proudly.

“Dude, a Valentine can’t be your mom,” Dean growsed.

“ _Your_ valentine is a boy,” Sam countered.

“Dude!” Dean shouted. His hand knocked over his pop and spilled it all over the table. It dripped onto his jeans, leaving them a sticky mess.

“Sam, Dean,” their mom scolded. A waitress came over with a towel and sopped up the mess, while Dean wiped his lap with a napkin. Dean glared at his brother while the pop got cleaned up. “Sam is taking me out to dinner, Dean. If you don’t have plans, maybe you and Cas would like to go to a movie.”

“God, no,” Dean groaned. “I do not want to see a chick flick.” He hazarded a glance at Cas, who wasn’t laughing or smiling, but just stared at Dean with a soft look on his face. Dean had to look away.

“Suit yourself, then,” Mary said briskly. “You’re both old enough to do what you want tonight. Don’t break any laws, be back in the motel room by 10:30, and I will be checking the bill for certain pay-per-view charges.”

Oh, God. There was no way Dean could handle watching porn with his best friend. Memories of a certain skin mag and its effects on Cas flashed through his mind, flushing his cheeks and making him need to cross his legs.

Sam must have been planning this because he had a nice shirt and pants to wear to dinner; their mom had to make do with the best blouse she’d brought with a pair of nice slacks. She put on lipstick and a pretty pair of earrings, acting like this was a real date rather than her nine-year-old son taking her to a crappy diner. Dean knew how much it meant to her, remembered how Sam had squirmed away from her hugs and refused to call her mom, and remembered the look on his mom’s face month after month. That was all in the past now, and Dean was glad for it—even if it meant Sam begged to join him on his summers with her. Sam had grown pretty cool over the years, but Dean still didn’t want to share his time in Tulsa.

“So, what do you want to do?” Cas asked once Dean's mom and brother had left.

Dean shrugged. 

“C’mon, Dean,” Cas grumbled. “This is your town. Where do you and your friends hang out?”

“My friends are at a party,” Dean admitted.

“Oh.” Cas seemed nonplussed. “Do you wanna go?”

“Nah.”

“Why not? You met _my_ friends.”

“’Cause…” _I don’t want to share you_ would definitely not be the manly thing to say. “They’re lame compared to you.”

Cas cocked an eyebrow, but accepted the answer without comment. 

They ended up going to the bowling alley; they added cool lights and music on Saturday nights. Fortunately, they didn’t add anything cheesy for Valentine’s day, or else Dean’s head would have exploded.

Cas was a terrible bowler, throwing nothing but gutterballs. Dean tried not to grin as Cas got taken down a notch or two again. “Dude,” Dean laughed. “You’re good at everything else, relax.”

“I am not good at everything,” Cas whined. He’d managed to knock down a single pin with his last bowl.

Dean stepped up to the lane, bowled, and knocked down five pins easily. “You’re fast, you’re smart, you’re talented, and, I mean, you’re not ugly.” He hid his blush and bowled his second ball, knocking down another three pins.

“I suppose,” Cas said thoughtfully. “But I’m terrible at making new friends, I don’t get most jokes, and I always burn grilled cheese.” He stepped up to take his turn, but paused at the ball return. “You’re not ugly either, you know.”

Dean was lucky the dim lighting hid his blush.

The food at the bowling alley was utter crap, so once they finished their game—which Dean won—they walked to a burger place Dean had never tried before. Unlike the bowling alley, the restaurant was decorated for Valentine’s day, with hanging cupids and hearts and all that other lame stuff. Even worse, they had a special menu for the weekend, with heart-shaped burger patties and meals for two featuring shared fries with special dipping sauces and milkshakes with two straws.

“Uh,” Dean stuttered when the waitress came to get their orders. “Don’t you have anything normal?”

“Everything that’s on the normal menu is on the special one, honey,” she smiled. “It’s just jazzed up a bit for the holiday.”

Dean was still rolling his eyes when Cas started talking. “We’ll have fries, onion rings, and fried pickles to split, and we’ll each have a double cheeseburger with bacon, no onions. And two milkshakes. Chocolate and…you want strawberry, Dean?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean stammered. 

The fried foods came out first, big baskets of steaming, golden goodness, with little bowls of different flavored fry sauces. They burned their fingers on each bite, but it was worth the pain. The burgers were just as amazing; juicy and dripping in melted cheese; they didn’t suffer from their heart-shaped patties.

“It’s only 8:30, what do you want to do next?” Cas asked between bites of burger.

“Let’s just go back to the motel, man,” Dean mumbled through his own delicacy. “Hey, do you think Gabe could make burgers like this?”

“Actually, Gabe is going to study culinary and pastry arts at a local college this fall. He just got accepted.”

“Cool.”

"Yeah, he’s going to live at home and they have a work study program, where he’ll help pay for classes by working in one of their restaurants. I’m looking forward to being a guinea pig.”

“Heh, yeah,” Dean agreed. “What do you think you wanna do when you grow up?”

Cas hummed thoughtfully, setting down his burger and taking a sip from his milkshake. “I don’t know. Maybe coach swimming. My times are good, you know. I might be able to get a scholarship to college or something. You?”

“I wanna be a rockstar.”

“You can’t sing and you don’t play an instrument,” Cas reminded him incredulously.

Dean dismissed his logic with a fry to the face. “Fine, maybe I’ll be a mechanic.”

“Like your dad?” He asked it so casually that anyone who didn’t know Cas wouldn’t have caught the disapproval in his tone. Dean didn’t challenge him, though. He knew what Cas was asking and why. He was right—Dean only wanted to be a mechanic because his dad was.

Cas paid for their meal, like it was a date or something. Between the decorations and the paying, Dean couldn’t help his blush as they headed back to the motel.

They watched another movie on pay-per-view—not porn, of course—with the lights off and pop and snacks from the machines outside, even though they’d just eaten dinner. They sat on the floor leaning against one of the beds. They were sitting in each other’s space, like they usually did, and Cas smelled of wintergreen.

Dean felt hot all over. It was distracting, Cas silhouetted in the light from the TV. He really was so beautiful, possibly even more so than the previous summer. He had the weirdest mouth, though. His lips were full, strongly bowed, but flat; Dean bet they’d feel weird against his own, poutier pair.

Oh, crap.

This wasn’t normal, wanting to kiss your best friend--wondering what it’d feel like to have his hands in your hair, to taste the smooth skin of his neck and leave your mark, to feel his tongue against yours. Just thinking about it was getting him all worked up; his jeans and the darkness would hopefully hide it.

“Dean,” Cas whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“Huh?” Dean was now faced with Cas's mouth straight on; he wasn’t capable of coherent speech.

“You’re staring,” Cas frowned.

All Dean had to do was lean in. Maybe Cas would hit him, maybe it’d ruin their friendship for all time, but at least Dean would get it out of his system. At least he would know what it was like. He was like a magnet to Dean, pulling him closer despite all Dean’s self-restraint. Cas’s eyes caught the light from the movie, glowing a deep blue and they were so huge.

“Dean?” He breathed, as time stood still.

“…and then it got all moldy!” Sam’s excited voice drifted in from outside.

“Moldy, huh? What about the apples, did they get moldy, too?” Dean’s mom was saying as she opened the door. She flipped on the light switch, and Dean jumped back a foot to a respectable distance from Cas. “That better be _Batman_ , again, boys.”

“It’s _Wayne’s World_ , Ms. Campbell,” Cas offered because he was, apparently, capable of speech. Either he had no idea what Dean had been aiming to do, or he didn’t care.

She hummed an agreement, and asked Sam about his science fair project again. Dean wasn’t listening; there was still a roar in his ears and his face was probably as red as a beet.

Dean hazarded a glance at Cas. The spell cast by the closeness, the dim light, and a day full of cupids and hearts was gone, but Dean found he still wanted to kiss him.

And when Cas left with Dean’s mom to go back to Tulsa the next day? Dean still wanted to kiss him.


	12. Summer 1993, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter, at least not ones that haven't been tagged.

Without Cas there, the rest of the school year passed without any weird ideas about wanting to kiss him, or hold his hand or any of the other stuff Dean found himself wanting. Of course, summer came, as it always did, and Dean was once again face to face with temptation in the guise of his best friend. It was strange because Dean liked girls—he liked all kinds of girls. And, yeah, sure, he noticed when guys were good looking, and maybe thought about them in his room after Sam was asleep just like he did pretty girls, but that was probably normal. Anyway, that—whatever it was—wasn’t a nuisance like his thing for Cas was. It sucked wanting to play video games, hang out at the pool or the library, and stay up late reading books and being constantly distracted by your best friend’s mouth. Dean persevered; he wasn’t about to let his bizarre obsession interfere with his friendship.

“Dean?” Cas questioned, waving his hand in front of his friend’s face and bringing Dean back from his daydream. 

“Sorry.” Dean shook the cobwebs out of his head. He had been focused on Cas’s neck, the spot behind his ears where his hair was starting to curl in the humidity. Cas had lost his job at the bookstore when someone turned him in--silly, as Cas was almost old enough to actually work there—so Dean restocked the shelves on his own. Cas, of course, kept him company on the long afternoons in the non-air-conditioned store. Since he knew the store better than anyone---other than its owner—he was pointing at a different shelf with a frown on his face.

“ _The Importance of Being Earnest_ goes in Drama, not poetry.”

“Right, of course.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just thinking about Kathy Ireland,” he bluffed.

“Yeah?” Cas grinned salaciously. He got a faraway look on his face, as if he was imagining the model. He leaned against the bookcase, which wobbled under his added weight. He’d grown taller—so had Dean, and they were nearly the same height again—and was steadily climbing towards manhood. 

“Do you think either of us’d stand a chance with someone like her,” Dean mused. 

“Maybe. Seeing as we're both _not ugly_ ,” Cas smirked.

“Dude,” Dean groaned. “I was being nice.”

“Mm hmm,” Cas hummed. He took a book off the shelf and started flipping through it, stopping to read a paragraph here and there. “I wish we were going to high school together,” he said, looking up from his book.

“Me, too, man,” Dean agreed. “Once I get a license, maybe we can do more like we did Valentine’s Day, and hang out during the school year.” 

Cas chuckled as he restocked his book. “I thought you were going to say go on a date.”

Dean sputtered and coughed. “Dude,” he finally choked out. “That wasn’t a…we didn’t...”

“I bought you dinner,” Cas rebutted.

“But that wasn’t…”

“Then we sat in the dark and watched a romantic movie.”

“We watched Wayne’s World,” Dean growled. He could feel his face heat beyond the effects of the bookstore’s temperature. He pushed away past Cas into the Mystery section where he tried to catch his breath. Behind him, he could hear his friend cackling.

“Dean,” he laughed. “I’m joking. You should have seen your face.”

Dean whipped his head back. “Not funny.”

“A little funny,” Cas shrugged.

“No, man, you don’t joke about stuff like that.”

“Sorry,” Cas scoffed. “But you know, the only difference between the two of us going out to dinner and one of us going out with a girl is that I don’t like you like that and you don’t like me.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, an uneasy laugh escaping at the end, which almost betrayed his real feelings. So, maybe they went on half a date.

Cas clasped Dean on the shoulder. “You really should have seen your face.”

* * *

A month later, Cas was still providing a distraction, but Dean had accepted it. It wasn’t keeping him up nights anymore, and he never thought about kissing Cas. Not never, really, so much as he resisted the temptation when it arose and kept it to the privacy of his bedroom and the shower otherwise. They had been hanging out at the mall because that’s where girls hung out. They had run into Meg and a group of her tough-looking friends; she gave them each an appraising look before moving on to the food court. Cas was still—forever—in the dark about Dean and Meg in the girls’ bathroom, now one of many secrets Dean was keeping from him. When they’d agreed that best friends keep secrets so many years ago, Dean was pretty sure this wasn’t how it they’d meant it.

They arrived back at the apartment building, stomachs full of pizza, cinnamon rolls, and French fries, and headed straight for Cas’s apartment. They were greeted at the door by a very excited Hannah.

“We’re going camping!” she announced.

Cas frowned and tilted his head to the side, as if his brain were processing the information like a computer. “Why would we go camping? We’re city people.”

“That’s why we’re going camping,” Hannah sighed. She rolled her eyes in a way that was reminiscent of her older brother. “How am I supposed to catch up with the other girls at Girl Scouts who’ve been camping hundreds of times?”

“That’s what you get for joining at twelve,” Cas came back with an eye roll of his own.

“Dean, you’ll come, too, right? Have you been camping before?” Hannah asked. 

“Uh, yeah, my dad takes me and Sam fishing sometimes.”

“Great!” Hannah cried. “You’ll be able to teach me everything I need to know. This is going to be the best!”

She trotted off, probably to practice knot tying or something.

“Mother?!” Cas bellowed. Dean could hear the panic in his voice. Mrs. Novak poked her head out from behind the open freezer. “Are we really going camping?”

Mrs. Novak had a package of frozen ground beef or something in her hand, which she set on the counter before approaching her son.

“This is very important to your sister.”

"Then take _her_ camping!” Cas’s voice had lost its normal deep growl and was getting higher and more panicked sounding with every word.

“Dude, relax. Camping’s cool.” Dean tried to soothe his friend, but the wild-eyed expression he was greeted with made him take a step back.

“Castiel,” his mother admonished. “Your brother can’t leave his work, and I am not doing this without help.” She turned towards Dean, her expression softening. “It would be wonderful if you could come, too.”

Cas clutched at his arm and stared at him with pleading eyes. “I don’t want to die in the wilderness, Dean.”

* * *

Two weeks later, Dean, Cas, Hannah, and Mrs. Novak were on their way in Mary’s borrowed car, two borrowed two-person tents, four mismatched, ancient sleeping bags, and a whole mess of other equipment Mrs. Novak thought they might need. It was a few hours to the recreation area where they were going to do this, and Cas grew more and more nervous as the ride went on.

“Relax,” Dean reassured him over the junk piled in the seat between them. “There’s electricity and showers at the campground. You won't have to shit in the woods.”

“Thank you,” Cas deadpanned.

They pulled into the campground, stopping at the office to register and pay fees, then found their assigned site. Set into a clearing in a grove of scrubby trees, the campsite was a sandy area with a fire pit at the center. As they got out of the car, Dean could see the sun reflecting off the lake.

“Can we swim in that?” Cas asked, and his voice had lost the panicked quality of earlier. 

“Yup,” Dean grinned. He reached out and grabbed Cas’s arm, and it was a good thing he did because Cas was ready to bolt towards the lake. “Not yet, buddy. We need to set up camp first.”

Cas sighed, but headed to trunk of the car to get a load of junk out of it. Hannah followed him around, telling him where to put things, but he dropped his collection onto the wooden picnic table already set up at their site.

“No, no, no,” Hannah objected. “We’re going to set up the tents over here!”

“Relax, Hannah,” Cas groaned. “I don’t want to get anything dirty.”

“We’re camping! It’s supposed to get dirty,” Hannah whined.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled. “ _You_ sleep in a dirty sleeping bag.”

They continued emptying the car and trekking the stuff the short distance to the campsite. They didn’t have anything fancy, seeing as how it was mostly borrowed from neighbors. Dean set up the prep table they’d use for cooking. It wasn’t one of the expensive kinds, with a sink and water storage or anything, but it would do. They had drinking water in bottles, and a big container with a spout to hold water from the campground supply for hand and dish washing. Filling it was Cas and Dean’s first job. Raccoons were a problem, so all their food was wrapped up tight and returned to the trunk, including the cooler. Gabe had helped put together the food back at home, so they were going to have good things to eat, as long as they didn’t burn them over the fire.

Hannah directed the setting up of both tents, but she didn’t help. Cas kept grumbling under his breath about it, but Dean didn’t mind so much. He enjoyed monotonous work, it let his mind wander, even if his mind wandered to the dexterity of Cas’s fingers as he put tent poles in place and fastened them to the ground. Soon, despite Dean’s distraction, they had the tents up, filled with sleeping bags, lanterns, and a supply of books.

Finally free, Cas ripped off his shirt so he was just wearing the swim trunks he’d worn on the road, ran, and jumped off the pier into the lake. Dean crawled into the tent and did the same; he wasn’t quite as used to stripping in public as swimming star Cas; he was barely able to swim without a T-shirt, as he was so ashamed of the baby fat still clinging to his bones. He followed Cas into the lake and the shock of the cold water nearly caused his limbs to seize up.

“I should have warned you,” Cas cackled. He dove under the water and Dean felt him around his legs briefly before he came up for water. Dude was like a fish. They raced, even though Dean never stood a chance, until Hannah joined them, then they splashed her until she screeched, sending all the birds around the lake flying off.

Mrs. Novak called them out of the lake to get started on dinner. Gabe had written out directions, and they all took their part. Cas handled cutting the peppers and onions into small pieces, while his mom taught his sister how to brown the meat Gabe had diced and seasoned at home in the Dutch oven over the fire. Dean was wrapped in a towel, opening cans of kidney beans and stewed tomatoes. Cas, however, was letting the late afternoon sun dry him off, his tanned skin glowing in the golden light; Dean's mouth went dry. With all the prep work Gabe had done, dinner was coming together far too quickly for Dean’s taste. Sure, the chili would simmer for more than an hour, but then they’d eat, it’d get dark, and it’d be time to hit the sack--in that tiny tent that couldn’t possibly hold two people, let alone two gangly limbed, nearing six-feet teenage boys, without extensive touching. Dean was not equipped to handle accidental spooning with his best-friend-slash-big-gay-crush. 

Even though the chili was stewing next to the fire, hot coals piled onto the lid, there was still cornbread to mix and pour into a greased cast iron pan, and bananas to split and fill with chocolate chips, mini marshmallows, nuts, caramel and whatever else their imaginations could come up with. They’d get wrapped in foil and buried in the coals once dinner was ready. 

“Let’s go back in the lake,” Cas urged. “Let Hannah finish the cornbread.”

Dean chuckled. “What happened to _I don’t want to go camping_ , Cas?”

“There are fish in that lake, Dean. I get to swim with fish. I swear, I raced one earlier; he won, of course.”

Dean could only shake his head, take off his T-shirt and head back to the lake to commune with the fishes.

“You know we’re gonna eat those fish, right?” Dean said as they walked down the pier.

“Yes, Dean.” Cas rolled his eyes. “The fish are at peace with their fate. It’s the cycle of life.”

“You are such a dork,” Dean smiled. Cas responded by shoving him into the water. “Hey,” Dean sputtered, treading water.

Cas jumped in after him, and Dean spared no time in getting his revenge. They tussled in the water, each pushing the other under and splashing as they fought for dominance. The slip-slide of wet bodies, however, soon created another problem for Dean. It was Cas who pulled away, though, and stared at Dean with wide eyes. Dean’s stomach dropped—could Cas tell?

“You wanna go back to the campsite or something?” Dean croaked through his embarrassment.

“No. God, no,” Cas sputtered, still wide-eyed. “Let’s…uh…let’s play Marco Polo. Yeah.”

He dolphin swam away before Dean could even give an answer. The lake was not too busy as it was a weekday—Mrs. Novak had taken a few days off for this—but there were still too many people around for Dean to take care of things right there (even though he kind of wanted to). Instead, he focused on what disgusting things were probably festering in the bottom of the lake. It worked just in time for Cas to call out a shaky “Marco.”

They played until Mrs. Novak called them to get ready for dinner. A couple kids their age had joined in; they waved goodbye as Dean and Cas climbed out of the water. They dripped all the way to the showers, but they each rinsed off under the water, then dried off and changed into dry clothes and clean underwear. Dean was proudly able to control himself despite Cas being naked just a shower stall away. They walked back to the campsite in sync, holding their soaked swim trunks and towels out in front of them.

“That smells so good,” Dean sighed when they reached the campsite and the delicious scents of dinner filled the air. They spread out their wet stuff over rocks and stumps that surrounded their campsite, and helped Cas’s mom finish up dinner. They had bowls of hot, spicy chili, topped with cheddar cheese, and thick, charred slices of cornbread dripping with honey. Food tasted better in the fresh air, and Dean had worked up an appetite in the lake. The bananas for dessert oozed chocolate as they ate them; Cas kept licking caramel off his fingers. In the golden-orange light from the fire and the waning sunset, Cas’s high cheekbones and full lips were emphasized. Dean was going to have to get over this weird infatuation he had with Cas. It was going to ruin their friendship one of these days if he was going to pop a boner every time he came into close contact with his friend.

* * *

The rest of the evening was awesome. Their neighbors at the next campsite pulled out a guitar and invited them over to sing camp songs around the fire—Dean wished he could play the guitar, too. People from other campsites joined them; other families, a group of college-age guys with a few six packs, and a couple of middle-aged women in plaid. After a while, Mrs. Novak and Hannah returned to their own campsite to wash the dishes from dinner and get ready to turn in, but they let Dean and Cas stay. Once they were gone, one of the college dudes offered Dean and Cas a taste of his beer. It was bitter and immediately went to his head, but Dean had never felt more grown up. Cas got all giggly and kept trying to tickle Dean after gulping down half a bottle before anyone could stop him. He sang louder than anyone, but he had a pretty good voice, even though he didn't know the lyrics half of the time.

“Your mom’s gonna kill you if she finds out you’re drunk,” Dean warned.

“I’m not drunk,” Cas grumbled. “I'm free.” He spread his arms out like he was flying to punctuate his point. 

“You’re a dork,” Dean countered.

“You keep saying that,” Cas giggled. He whipped his head around until he was face to face with Dean, barely an inch apart.

“Dude,” Dean complained. He wasn’t mad at the closeness so much, just that he didn’t trust himself when Cas’s lips were within kissing distance—especially when the sip of beer he’d had wore away at his resolve.

“You have a lot of freckles,” Cas pointed out. He probably couldn’t see them from his close up angle, let alone in the dark, but he started touching Dean’s nose and cheeks as if he were counting them. Before he pulled back, he placed a soft kiss to the tip of Dean’s nose. “I like your freckles.”

Dean froze. The rest of the revelers continued singing:

_Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose,_  
_Nothing don’t mean nothing, honey, if it ain’t free._

Cas leaned to the side, dropping his forehead onto Dean’s shoulder. Dean mustered up all the courage he could and placed a hand on the back of Cas’s neck. His soft hair brushed against Dean’s fingers.

“I’m tired,” Cas sighed.

“This is only gonna go another twenty minutes or so, buddy. You can’t hold on for a bit longer?”

“I think I like camping, Dean.” He turned his head so his cheek was resting on Dean’s shoulder. “You’re very warm. I could sleep here.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean choked out. Of course he was warm; his blood was probably boiling by now. Taking Cas back to the campsite wasn’t going to make it any better, as they’d have to force themselves into a tiny tent. Better this, where the risk of exposure and humiliation kept Dean in line, even with the temptation of Cas’s warm breath against his neck. 

Unfortunately, the park ranger came by and shut it all down before they could finish the second verse of “Brown-eyed Girl”—park noise ordinances and complaints from the losers who tried to go to bed early.

Cas must have sobered up because he was quiet and subdued as they passed through the trees that separated the campsite from theirs, even if he stumbled in the beam of their flashlight. There were still coals smoldering in the firepit, so Dean poured some sand over them and watched them fade to nothing. Mrs. Novak and Hannah’s tent was dark, so Dean assumed they were asleep already. His and Cas’s tent was illuminated by the lantern because Cas was changing into sleep clothes inside. He poked his head out and smiled sleepily when he was done, his wild hair silhouetted by the glow from the lantern.

“Do you mind?” Dean asked, again thankful for the dark hiding his blush. At Cas’s questioning look, Dean motioned with his head for Cas to vacate the tent. If beautiful, graceful Cas got to have privacy to change into pjs, then Dean and his chubby stomach got to, too.

“I’ll put on my shoes,” Cas stuttered. He disappeared for a minute, then reappeared crawling through the flap. “Do we have a second lantern?”

“Uh, yeah.” They’d hung one on a pole when they’d set everything up, and Dean switched it on, casting both of them into a pool of dim light. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Dean pulled off his shorts and T-shirt as quickly as he could. He was trying not to think about the impending good night’s sleep he was definitely not going to have, trapped in a rectangle of nylon barely the size of his twin bed at home. Done, he poked his head out of the tent and motioned for Cas to shut off the lantern and join him inside.

There were a few minutes of awkwardness, taking off dirty shoes and sticking them outside, sliding into sleeping bags, and trying to find a comfortable position that—at least for Dean—involved the least contact. 

He woke up three hours later, sweating in the heat and humidity. He turned the lantern on to the lowest setting, so he could see inside the pitch black tent. Cas had already thrown off his sleeping bag, and sweat glistened on his exposed collar bones. Dean unzipped the flap on the tent and let fresh air in, though it wasn’t much help as it was as hot outside as it was inside.

“Hey,” Cas groaned; his voice was sleep-warmed and husky.

“Hey,” Dean whispered back. “It’s too hot.”

“Yeah.” He sat up, alertness fading out the sleep in his expression.

“No, man, go back to sleep,” Dean objected. He left the flap open and crawled back to the head of his sleeping bag.

“You can’t leave it like that,” Cas whined. “They have raccoons here.”

“Dude, there’s a screen; we’ll be fine.”

“I hate you.” Cas’s narrowed eyes were visible even in the dim light from the lantern.

“You love me,” Dean quipped; he looked away when he saw the imperceptible shift in Cas’s expression. The air in the tent seemed to grow even hotter in the aftermath of his joke gone very wrong. “I mean. We’re best friends, and…go back to sleep, Cas.”

He shut off the lantern again, and laid down. In the darkness, he heard a small sound from Cas but couldn’t make out words. Eventually, Cas’s breathing slowed, and Dean was alone with his weird thoughts.

* * *

The following morning brought more oppressive heat and humidity, a dark wall of clouds on the horizon threatening to overtake them. Dean changed in his sleeping bag and crawled out of the tent to find Mrs. Novak cracking eggs into a plastic bowl. 

“Hannah’s collecting firewood,” she said by way of greeting. “We’ll use the camping stove for the eggs. There’s hot water for oatmeal if you’re hungry now.”

“I can help,” Dean offered, as he poured a packet of instant oatmeal and some of the water into a bowl.

“Of course you can,” she replied, and, if her imperious look—the one she had passed on to her son—was any indication, Dean hadn’t really had a choice. Mrs. Novak had already gotten the ingredients for breakfast from the cooler, so he ripped open the package of bacon and started dicing it once he had downed his oatmeal. There was green stuff for the eggs, too, but he’d leave that for someone who hated that sort of thing less than he did.

Cas soon crawled out of the tent, bleary-eyed and grumpy. “Can I have coffee, mother?” he mumbled.

“We only have instant,” Mrs. Novak warned.

“You drink coffee?” Dean uttered, awed.

“Only when my jerk friend wakes me up in the middle of the night to whine about the temperature.”

“Hey,” Dean objected. “You were the one whining—about raccoons.”

“I do not remember this,” Cas deadpanned.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean chuckled. “Get me some coffee, too, okay?”

“Yes, dear,” Cas replied blandly.

Dean’s cheeks reddened slightly; he hoped he could pass it off as sunburn if anyone noticed. “Make yourself some oatmeal while you’re at it. Then you can cut the peppers and onions so I don’t have to.”

“Nag, nag, nag,” Cas joked. “Sugar?”

“Yeah, and milk.” Somehow it made Dean feel less awkward to joke like this. Cas placed a mug on the table next to Dean, then moved off to eat his oatmeal and drink his coffee at the picnic table. Dean took a drink from the milky liquid; it was bitter and sweet. 

Cas only took a few minutes to eat his oatmeal and came back to Dean with his half empty coffee mug in hand. He set it down on the table and started prepping the peppers and onion. The sulphuric scent of onion prickled at Dean’s eyes and nose, even over the delicious scent of frying bacon. Cas was quick with a knife, so once the bacon was browned, Dean added the veggies. Mrs. Novak took over and shooed the boys away to help Hannah stack the fallen branches she’d collected for firewood.

A few minutes later, there were piles of fluffy, cheesy scrambled eggs on each of their plates. Dean didn’t even mind the green stuff, since it was combined with bacony goodness. They washed their breakfast down with freshly squeezed orange juice and more coffee. Once every last bite was devoured, they got things cleaned up and secured the campsite for their next adventure.

There were a bunch of trails around the recreation area, and Hannah wanted to bird watch or something nerdy like that, so they decided to brave the 100-degree heat and take a hike. 

“I’m dying,” Dean moaned.

“Dramatic, much?” Cas smirked. He was barely breaking a sweat, and Dean hated him for it.

“Not all of us are swimming and track stars.” Dean punctuated his scathing comeback by maturely sticking out his tongue.

“Do you not run in baseball?”

“Very funny.”

“Will you two shut up?” Hannah grumbled. “You’ll scare away that hooded warbler.” She pointed at a pretty yellow and black bird, which promptly flew away into the trees. “See.”

“I think that was less loud teenage boys and more hyperactive Girl Scout, Hannah, dear,” her mother admonished. 

Hannah crossed her arms and glowered. “I still think they should walk 100 feet behind me.”

“No,” Mrs. Novak barked. “I am not explaining to the park ranger how three miles of pristine trail became wasteland.”

Dean and Cas both gave her puppy dog eyes to declare their innocence.

After their hike, they stopped off at the nature center, which was surprisingly not lame. It had cool reptiles and birds that were way more badass than the kind Hannah had wanted to see. Though, to her credit, Hannah spent more time than anyone watching the winged killers preen themselves. There were even these weird nature dioramas that Sam would have gone nuts for, which caused Dean—albeit briefly—to wish his little brother could spend summers with their mom, too. On their way back to the campsite for lunch, they stopped off at the bookstore attached to the nature center. Hannah bought a couple of books on birds and the park, but they didn’t have much fiction, so Dean and Cas couldn’t be bothered. Dean did, however, buy some postcards and a few stamps to send to his mom, Charlie, and Sam, and a really cool Swiss Army Knife.

When they returned to their campsite, they ran into their neighbors who were also returning from a morning’s adventure. Since they had plenty of hot dogs and a vat of potato salad Gabe had made that took up half their cooler space, they invited the quartet to their campsite for lunch.

The dad, who had played guitar and sang so well the night before, helped Dean and Cas get the fire started, while everyone else made lemonade and opened cans of baked beans. The boy, who was probably Sammy’s age, kept dropping the lemons on the ground, so his big sister, who was maybe one or two years older than Dean and Cas—and fully developed, Dean noted—had to get more water from the faucet down the road. Dean, not being an idiot, abandoned his friend to fire-starting, and joined her.

“How old are you?” she asked. It was casual enough that Dean couldn’t tell if she was making conversation or trying to flirt.

“Fourteen.” Dean’s hands started to sweat as he helped carry the big water container; she was really pretty.

“I’m sixteen. How old is your brother?”

“My brother?”

She looked at him like he was an idiot. “Yeah. The guy with the blue eyes and the great hair.”

“Uh, Cas isn’t my brother. We’re best friends—same age.”

“Oh, he looked older.” They reached the spout and Dean held the container while she turned the faucet. It got super heavy when filled with water, but Dean still wanted to impress the pretty girl.

“Actually, I’m older than him,” Dean boasted. “He just turned fourteen. I’ve been fourteen since January.”

“He’s cuter,” she admitted.

“Well, yeah,” Dean gulped.

“So, you think he’s cute.” Dean nearly dropped his side of the water. He sputtered out some sort of denial, but he knew his red face would give him away if nothing else did. “Oh,” she remarked, realization dawning on her face. “That’s cool.”

He repositioned his grip on the water, so they were moving normally again. “Hey, I’m not—I like girls.”

She raised her eyebrows at him pointedly. “You know you can like both, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean blustered, until he put together what she was saying. “Wait, what?”

“My aunt was married to a guy, now she’s with a woman.”

“And that’s okay?” Dean asked. She had said it so matter-of-factly, like it wasn’t a life changing, world bending, destroy-the-status-quo thing to say.

“Well, my dad flipped out for a while that his sister was suddenly a lesbian, but she was like, _I had a girlfriend in college, dumbass—didn’t you wonder why my off-campus apartment only had one bedroom and a roommate._ My dad can be kind of a brick, sometimes.”

“My dad would kill me,” Dean admitted. It was still the only thing he could admit; even if he was the way she was suggesting he was, nothing like that was ever going to happen. He’d get over his desire to kiss Cas—which was way more than a desire to just kiss, he had to admit—they’d remain buddies for life, and they’d each marry a gorgeous supermodel and live next door to each other all year round. Dean would probably never look twice at another dude again.

“Your dad sounds like he sucks,” Lenore remarked. “There’s nothing wrong with being gay—or bisexual, in your case.”

She paused on the trail; the water container they carried between them pulled Dean back, making him lose his footing. She caught him, letting the water container fall the last few inches to the ground. 

That was, of course, when Cas showed up.

“Uh,” he stammered. “I was wondering why you were taking so long. I guess this is why.”

Dean felt like a cheating husband caught in the act, but Cas didn’t act like an angry wife. It’s not like Dean ever thought his feelings were returned, but a little jealousy might have been nice, if only that it appeared Dean was getting somewhere with a pretty, older girl. Cas just picked up the water container off the ground, and hauled it back towards the campsite. 

“Your boyfriend is jealous,” Lenore whispered to Dean.

“Shut up,” Dean growled. “Don’t joke like that—especially when Cas might hear. He wouldn’t be jealous anyway.”

They followed Cas, who quickly gained distance on them until the smell of roasting hot dogs met their nostrils. Cas already had the lemons washed and his mother was cutting them open so that Hannah and Lenore’s little brother, Eli, could squeeze their juice into a pitcher when Dean got to their campsite. He joined Lenore’s dad in tending to the dogs on the grill, turning them when they got too brown or moving them to the cooler side of the grill. Lenore brought over rolls to toast, and they arranged them around the outside.

Soon, the eight of them were crammed around the picnic table, stuffing their faces with dogs, potato salad, beans, and for those who were not Dean, fresh fruit.

“So, do you boys fish?” Mr. Taylor asked.

“Yeah,” Dean offered between bites of his fourth hot dog. “We brought a pole. It’s crap, but it should catch something.”

“Well, I was going to take Eli to one of the better spots on the lake in the morning, if you boys want to come along. Lenore and her mom are not the fishing type.”

“Hey,” Hannah objected. “Fishing is an important camping skill. I should go, too.”

“Of course,” Mr. Taylor said. “If your mother says it’s okay.”

It was several minutes of negotiations before Mrs. Novak would consent to them joining the other family in the morning.

After lunch, Mrs. Novak, Hannah, and Mrs. Taylor decided to drive into Sulphur, the nearby town, to pick up more ice for the cooler and more food supplies for the next day’s meals. The other family had been at the campsite for several days already, so their supplies had run low. Before they left, Cas pulled his mom aside, but Dean couldn’t hear what they were saying. He was probably telling his mom he saw Dean and Lenore doing something they weren’t actually doing. Or—could Cas have heard what Lenore was saying?

He had been so distracted by what Lenore had been telling him that he might have misjudged at what point Cas had arrived. He could have been walking towards them, close enough to hear Lenore call Dean…what she had called Dean. That would have meant he knew. He knew that Dean thought about him when he jacked off. He knew that Dean had wanted to kiss him on multiple occasions. He knew that Dean thought he was wonderful and handsome and special. Okay, maybe he didn’t know all of that, yet, but he would. He was a smart guy; he’d put it all together soon if he hadn’t already. And he probably hated Dean for it.

For someone who hated Dean, however, he was acting pretty normally once his mother had left. He didn’t ignore Dean or say anything mean, and was pretty much normal Cas.

They all took to the lake for more swimming. Eli and Lenore’s dad insisted on acting as a lifeguard, even though Cas assured him he was a championship swimmer. Their new friends had a beach ball, so they all tossed it around for a while before switching to Sharks and Minnows. 

“Cas, you be the shark,” Dean directed.

“Of course.” Cas rolled his eyes.

They determined the borders of their game to be a tree on the shore at one end and a boulder at the other side, with the pier in between. The usual rule that you could avoid capture by swimming underwater was decided void, as Eli couldn’t hold his breath in the water. This meant Cas was going to have an easier time catching them, but given how this was Cas, he was already at an extreme advantage. 

“You should let him catch you,” Lenore whispered before they started.

“No.”

“I’d let him catch me,” she added suggestively.

“You’re a girl. He’d like to catch you. He’d probably be disgusted by me.”

Even as he said it, he knew it couldn’t be true. Cas had always been the one saying their doll could have two daddies—how innocent those days had been—and how a family wasn’t just made up of moms and dads. When rumors started about two older ladies who had just moved into the apartment building, Cas was the one who told Gabe to shut up when he was making gross jokes. And then he insisted they bake the women a pie to welcome them to the building. It wasn’t just that, though; Cas was kind and nonjudgmental to everyone, especially anyone who was persecuted for being different. He wasn’t preachy or self-righteous about it either. It seemed like Cas didn’t notice differences like that until someone was an asshole about it. He was the best person Dean had ever met.

Until he got in the water. Then he was a sadistic asshole who relentlessly pursued Dean around the lake until Dean’s legs couldn’t kick anymore. Lenore and Eli had it easy. Cas all but ignored them in favor of Dean. He was doing it on purpose, too. Cas could swim fast enough to compete in the Olympics someday; he could have caught Dean in a minute instead of staying just far enough behind to wear Dean out.

“Dude,” Dean groaned. “Pick on someone else for a while. I’m getting tired.”

“If you want to give up, I’ll happily tag you,” Cas replied calmly. He didn’t even sound winded.

“It’s not like you can’t catch me and tag me yourself.”

“What fun would that be?” Cas smirked.

Dean had regained enough energy to reenter the chase, but he didn’t move yet. “I don’t think it’s any fun for them.” He nodded towards Eli and Lenore; Eli was kicking restlessly in the water, but his sister was watching their conversation with interest.

“I think you know how to fix that,” Cas intimated. “I’ll even let you capture Lenore if you’d like—once you’re on my team.”

“Dude, what is wrong with you today?”

“I…” Cas began, and his self-assuredness dropped away. “Are you and Lenore a thing now?”

Dean let out a huff. “Nah, man. If she was gonna pick one of us, it was not gonna be me.” Cas raised his eyebrows at that, but Dean continued. “It’s not gonna be you, either, since she found out you’re two years younger than her.”

“Oh,” Cas breathed. “She _is_ very pretty.” He glanced over at the sixteen-year-old, but quickly turned back to Dean. He bridged the few feet between them, and grabbed Dean’s arm. “Gotcha,” he smiled.

Eli won the first round, and soon other kids joined in for another game—Cas won next, of course. When their mothers returned, Hannah joined in, and they played for hours, until their mothers called them all back. The two families separated, planning to reconnect in the morning for their planned fishing expedition, and Dean and Cas were put to work making dinner. 

They weren’t having anything interesting for dinner, just a tuna pasta salad. They’d brought the tuna and pasta with them, but Mrs. Novak had bought fresh cherry tomatoes and peas at a Farmers’ Market in town. Somehow, a bet got made that forced Dean to eat the green peas or forfeit the s’mores they were planning for dessert. Dean took great pleasure in eating each sticky bite of his winnings.

By the time dessert was done, there was barely enough time after cleaning up from the cooking and eating to all get showers before their early bedtime. Crawling into a tent with Cas again after everything Lenore had said to him and after Cas had been so weird at the lake made Dean short of breath. He was a screw up for threatening to ruin their friendship just because of something he possibly was. It took hours before Dean fell asleep, long after he heard Cas’s breathing steady and slow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lenore and Eli's last name, Taylor, comes from William Taylor, who translated the poem _Lenore_ by Gottfried August Burger into English.
> 
> The song they are singing around the campfire is "Me and Bobby McGee."


	13. Summer 1993, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for near drowning.

“Wake up, you dorks!” Dean squinted in the light of Hannah’s lantern—the sun wasn’t up yet. “The Taylors are ready to go. We’re going to be—“

She didn’t finish her sentence due to the camping pillow that bounced off her face. Dean looked over at Cas, now pillowless, who hadn’t yet moved from his sleeping position. In one fluid motion, he rolled out of his own sleeping bag and laid his head down on Dean’s pillow. Dean was grateful Hannah had dropped her lantern because sharing a pillow with Cas meant their bodies were pressed together. Even through his sleeping bag, Dean could feel Cas radiating heat, and the contact was making a morning situation more dire.

“I’ll, uh, get this one up,” Dean assured Hannah. “Is there time for breakfast? I’m hungry.”

“Pancakes,” Hannah announced, and crawled backwards out of the tent.

“I like pancakes,” Cas mumbled in his sleep.

“Of course, buddy.” Dean playfully batted at Cas, but Cas only snuggled more closely, his hand sliding over onto Dean’s stomach, dangerously close to where it was obvious Dean didn’t mind the contact. Cas was still fast asleep, he wouldn’t notice if Dean drew pleasure from it. If he’d just wake up and move his hand a little lower—

Thank God Cas stayed asleep for what happened next.

Dean was mortified as he hobbled in his pajamas to clean up in the restroom. This had to stop. He looked at his face in the mirror; it didn’t look like the face of a depraved pervert. By the time he had cleaned up from the incident, gotten dressed, and returned to the campsite, Cas was up and dressed and cooking pancakes in the frying pan. 

“Hey, where’d you go?” Cas asked as he passed a stack of pancakes on a plate to Dean.

“Had to piss,” Dean lied. He sat down at the table where syrup, butter, coffee, and orange juice were all set out.

Hannah was stuffing pancake into her face at an alarming speed. “Hurry; eat, eat, eat,” she said; through a mouth full of food, it sounded more like “huwwy, ee ee ee.”

Soon, Cas joined them with his own plate, and quickly dug in. He poured too much syrup on his pancakes and too much sugar in his coffee. Mrs. Novak dropped a plate of fat, juicy breakfast sausages, grilled on the campfire, onto the table, and Cas greedily speared one with his fork. 

“Seriously, Dean,” Cas warned. “Eat faster.”

Dean laughed through his food, “You’re afraid of your twelve-year-old sister.”

“Yes, I am.”

Hannah waved her fork at them menacingly to illustrate Cas’s point.

Once breakfast was eaten, they piled into Mr. Taylor’s car with Eli to drive around to the other side of the lake where the best fishing was. There were a few other fishermen there, but it wasn’t crowded at such an early hour.

Dean had fished with his dad before, but Cas, Hannah, and Eli never had, so Mr. Taylor helped them put a worm—bought from a stand at the campgrounds—on the hook and taught them how best to lure bass, which were plentiful in the lake. Dean paid attention to that part, since his dad used a different technique that was better in the murky water where they usually fished in Kansas.

Despite his inexperience, Cas was the first to catch a fish. It was a respectable size, but not so big that they’d have to throw it back.

“Are you gonna eat that?” Eli asked.

“Yeah,” Dean responded enthusiastically.

“It’s the cycle of life,” Cas chimed in.

“Eat or be eaten,” Hannah added. She was so serious that Cas and Dean started laughing, and couldn’t speak for several minutes. It was great to feel normal around Cas, at least for a while, and to focus on their friendship rather than any weirdness. Soon, Dean, Hannah, and Mr. Taylor had all had successful catches as well.

Eli didn’t find it all so funny—or natural—and only halfheartedly held his rod when his dad insisted. When a fish—a big one by the looks of it—took his bait, he instinctively gripped. He couldn’t gain sufficient footing, however, and the force of the fish at the other end of his line started pulling him off the pier.

“Dad,” he gulped, as the fish pulled him over the edge.

There wasn’t any danger. The lake didn’t have much of a current at this time of the year, and it was deep enough that he wouldn’t hit the bottom, so there was no real threat. They had all scrambled to catch him anyway, but it was out of adrenaline and instinct rather than fear.

They all looked over the edge of the pier, expecting to see Eli bobbing in the water grumpily, but he hadn’t surfaced.

“Shit,” Dean voiced, as Mr. Taylor shouted Eli’s name. Cas, however, was in the water before anyone else could move.

A few seconds later, Cas resurfaced, but he was alone. “He’s caught in the line,” he shouted. “I need a knife or something.”

Dean dug into his pockets and found the pocket knife he had bought the previous day. He leaned over the edge of the pier and tossed it gently to Cas, who caught it, extended the knife, and dove again.

This time, when he surfaced, he had Eli with him. Those on the pier grabbed Eli out of his arms and dragged him to safety; his dead— _don’t say dead_ —weight making him unwieldy. Cas followed by pulling himself onto the pier. The incident had attracted attention, and a group of fishermen and other lake-goers had gathered around them. One pushed through the crowd, declaring herself a doctor, and started rescue breathing. A few seconds later, Eli was coughing and sputtering water.

As everyone around them focused on the boy, Dean only had eyes for his best friend. He ran his hands through Cas’s wet hair, cradling his face.

“Hey, hey,” he reassured. “Cas, buddy, you did great.” He bumped his forehead against Cas’s, and moved his hands to Cas’s back. They held each other until Cas pulled away and held out the pocket knife that had helped save the day.

“Thanks,” he murmured. 

Dean took the knife and put it back in his pocket. “We make a good team.”

Cas nodded.

“He’s going to be fine,” Dean could hear the doctor telling Mr. Taylor. “But you should get him to the hospital in Sulphur to get checked out.”

The other fishermen and onlookers helped gather their things, including the cooler full of fish.

“Let me take that for you,” one of the other fishermen offered. “You all are staying at Buckhorn, right? I recognize you from that sing-a-long the other night.”

They let the other man worry about their fish, but took their gear and headed to the car, Cas and Eli trailing water behind them, and drove the twenty minutes to the hospital in town. They wanted to check out Cas, too, because he was dripping water same as Eli, so Dean and Hannah were left alone in the ER waiting room. Dean found a payphone near the restrooms and called the attendant station.

“Can you give a message to 57 and 58 C, please,” he asked once a ranger had answered. “Eli fell in the water and Cas rescued him. Everyone is fine, but they are checking them out at the hospital in Sulphur.”

The ranger promised to give the message himself immediately, and hung up. Dean and Hannah found seats close to the nurse’s station.

“I should have known what to do,” Hannah sighed. “A girl scout should be prepared.”

“That’s boy scouts,” Dean reminded her.

“Why can’t I be a boy scout, then,” she complained.

Dean didn’t have to respond, since a nurse popped out of the double doors and called out, “Novak.” Dean and Hannah bounded up at the name. “Your brother is done,” she informed them. “You can sit with him now.”

Dean and Hannah entered the exam room, where Cas was sitting up on the exam table. They’d given him a pair of scrubs to change into, and he had a blanket around his shoulders. His hair was still damp.

“How are you doing?” Dean asked.

Cas shrugged in response, but motioned for Dean to sit next to him. Dean obliged, and Cas placed his head on his shoulder, while Hannah sat on his other side and took his hand. They stayed like that until Mrs. Novak rushed into the room ten minutes later.

Dean and Hannah told her the story of what had happened, since Cas was still not talking. They moved out of the way so she could embrace her son, and she held onto him tightly until the doctor came to speak with her out in the hall.

A few minutes later, Lenore joined them. She threw her arms around Cas and muttered, “You saved my brother’s life,” into his shoulder. Dean couldn’t muster up any jealousy—in either direction—even as the hug lasted too long. He was in awe of his friend, and he expected everyone else to feel the same way. “They have him on oxygen and may keep him overnight, but he’s fine,” she announced to the room with a relieved sigh, once she’d let Cas go.

Cas was soon released, and the Novak-Campbell (Winchester) brigade headed back to the campsite. They hadn’t eaten in hours, so Mrs. Novak and Hannah quickly whipped up a quick lunch of peanut butter, bananas, and flour tortillas, rolling them and cutting them into rounds.

Cas ate his without talking, even refusing the honey his mother offered to dip the roll-ups in. He was obviously really bothered by what had happened, but no one knew what to say.

“Howdy, folks,” a loud voice carried from the parking lot. They all turned towards the sound only to find the fisherman from the lake pulling their green cooler out of the back of his pickup. Dean helped him carry it and set it on the ground near their kitchen prep area. “How’s the boy?”

“He’s fine, but they’re still at the hospital,” Mrs. Novak answered primly.

“Good to hear,” the fisherman grinned. “That’s one hell of a young man you’ve got there.”

“Thank you.”

“We put together a little collection. Thought he deserved something for his heroism.” The fisherman reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded pile of bills. Cas saw it, too, blanched, and took off towards the lake without taking it or saying anything.

Dean reached out his hand for the money; the fisherman hesitated before handing it over. “Thanks,” Dean smiled softly. “I’ll give it to him.”

The fisherman glanced over Dean’s shoulder towards Cas’s receding form and nodded understandingly. “I tossed a few extra in there.” He gestured towards the cooler. “Gutted and fileted them all for you, too. Kept the heads; hope that’s alright. I figured you folks wouldn’t want them anyway.”

Dean missed the rest of the conversation, as he’d already started drifting towards where his friend had run off to. He found Cas sitting on top of one of the tables in a picnic area near the lake. 

Cas caught sight of the money still in Dean’s hand. “I don’t want that.”

“Hey, man. There’s gotta be fifty dollars here.” Dean held it out to Cas, who still refused it.

“I don’t deserve it.”

Dean joined him on the table, putting a supportive arm around his friend’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I think the Taylors would disagree,” Dean reminded him.

Cas responded by putting his head on Dean’s shoulder again. Dean would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t really like this newfound clinginess of Cas. He wasn’t normally an especially cuddly person, and, of course, them being teenage boys, affection was not something often handed out freely. He should have felt guilty about taking pleasure from Cas’s crisis, but being physical closer to Cas was exactly what filled his dreams most of the year, so he leaned into the contact.

“I was so scared,” Cas finally whispered.

“So?” Dean challenged. “You still saved the day.”

Cas turned his head to face Dean. They were so close they were breathing each other’s air. “I was lucky.”

“You were amazing.” Dean couldn’t help but nuzzle against Cas’s face—just a bit.

“It was stupid,” Cas argued, still whispering. His full lips brushed against Dean’s as he spoke. “I put myself in danger, too. Everyone knows that’s not how you—“

“You were a hero,” Dean breathed. He was long past conscious thought. This thing was bigger than both of them; it was more than he could possibly resist. So, it wasn’t Dean’s fault that he pressed forward. It was something out of his control.

Unfortunately, that was as far as Dean got, as Hannah chose that moment to interrupt.

“Mr. Taylor and Lenore are here!” she shouted. Dean jumped back like Cas was made of lava.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was barely more than the dry brush of lips together. Cas was staring at Dean with his head tilted like a confused bird, but it hadn’t been anything. Hannah had successfully stopped that. Her arrival had stopped the complete and utter destruction of Dean and Cas’s friendship.

They kept a more-than-respectable distance on the short walk back to the campsite, where both Mr. Taylor and Lenore greeted Cas with hugs.

“I hadn’t had the chance to thank you earlier,” Mr. Taylor said with a grip on Cas’s shoulder.

Cas accepted his thanks without the angst he had voiced to Dean. The family was cutting their trip short and had gotten a motel in town, so Dean, Cas, Hannah, and Mrs. Novak helped them pack up their tent and supplies. They had no interest in taking any of the fish, and, in fact, gave away some of the food they’d brought, too.

Once the Taylors had packed up and gone, Cas slowly started perking up. He would glance at Dean suspiciously every once and a while, which was the only indication he was aware that Dean had nearly crossed a line. 

They were going to cook the fish for dinner, layering it with fresh herbs and sliced lemons. They wrapped potatoes in aluminum foil and tossed them into the coals and grilled fresh corn donated by their former neighbors. They were just about to toss the fish on the grate to cook for ten minutes or so when Cas suddenly cried out.

“Oh, oh! I forgot. Do we still have time to make it?” Mrs. Novak nodded, and Dean looked from mother to son in confusion. Mrs. Novak answered his unspoken question by opening up the cooler and taking out a prepackaged pie dough. “I was going to make you pie,” Cas explained sheepishly. “Sorry it’s not homemade.”

“That doesn’t matter! All pie is good!” Dean smiled.

The four of them tore through the peaches Mrs. Novak had bought the previous day, and by the time the fish came off the grill, steaming and flavorful, the pie was nestled safely in the Dutch oven under a pile of hot coals.

After the day they had all had, dinner was the best thing they’d ever eaten. The fish was tender and full of flavor from the herbs and citrus. The corn was fresh and crisp and the potatoes smoky and topped with butter. Just after sundown, the pie was ready, it’s brown crust—though store bought—was crisp and flaky, and the peaches were infused with summer. They topped it with sweetened cream, and if Dean hadn’t wanted to kiss Cas before, he did after. No one had a guitar this night, but they sang lame camp songs around the campfire anyway. Cas was acting like himself again.

They’d had such a long day that they turned in early, even though it was their last night. Cas took forever in the shower—understandable given the day he’d had—so Dean was done with his and in his pajamas before Cas was out. He went back to the campsite alone and crawled into his and Cas’s tent. It was a stupid idea, but he couldn’t help remembering how Cas had sought contact while he was troubled, so he unzipped both their sleeping bags and arranged them so that the two boys could sleep next to each other unencumbered.

When Cas returned, he didn’t say a word about the new sleeping arrangements, but once Dean rolled onto his side, Cas settled behind him, tucking his head against Dean’s neck. It wasn’t sexy—though perhaps it should have been—but comforting and safe, and Dean fell asleep to the warm breath of his best friend tickling his hair.

They woke up in the same position and only separated because, unlike the previous morning, Dean actually had to pee. They ate breakfast, packed the car, and headed back to Tulsa. For better or worse, it was a trip none of them would ever forget.

* * *

The summer continued, as summer’s do, and Dean couldn’t help but think that things between him and Cas had shifted. Dean couldn’t put his finger on what had changed; he certainly hadn’t tried to kiss his friend again. If anything, some of the tension that had been building for years had released, and they were more comfortable around each other. 

Near the end of August, they were hanging out at Charlie’s house with her and a few other friends. They were celebrating the end of the summer—therefore, the beginning of highschool for most of them--and Dean’s impending return to Kansas. The money Cas had received from the fisherman had remained in the box under his bed until then, when they finally broke it out to party with their friends. They’d bought pizza and soda and chips to eat.

“I think we should play truth or dare,” one of the girls announced.

Everyone groaned. 

“Come on, that’s so seventh grade.”

“Let’s play a drinking game,” Charlie offered.

“Uh, don’t you usually need to drink alcohol?” another girl, Gilda, challenged.

Charlie produced a bottle of cheap vodka from behind a cabinet. “Not a problem,” she announced. Dean helped her pour a bit in everyone’s soda cups. “So, the game is simple. Someone asks a question—I’ll go first—and then we go around the room and everyone has to answer. If you don’t answer, you have to take a drink, if someone catches you in a lie, you have to drink, and if someone demands further explanation, and you refuse, you have to drink. Have you ever walked in on your parents doing it?”

A chorus of _ewws_ echoed around the room.

“Yes, but I was five and I didn’t understand,” Gilda answered.

“No, thank God,” said a kid named Harry.

When it was Dean’s turn, he said, “Well, my parents are divorced, but I did walk in on my dad and my stepmom making out on the couch one night after dinner.”

Another chorus of _ewws_ resounded at his answer, then it was Cas’s turn. He looked almost poised to take a drink instead of answering, but rethought it. “My dad hasn’t been around almost as far back as I can remember, so no. But my mom is on a date tonight, so maybe I still have a chance,” he deadpanned.

“Wait,” Dean interjected. “Your mom has a date?”

“Uh, yeah. She met him at work, apparently. He came by the apartment to pick her up before we left. He’s English or something.”

“Gross.”

“Understatement,” Cas deadpanned.

They went around the room question after question, sometimes spilling their deepest, darkest secrets, and sometimes learning the burn of crappy alcohol. As they drank more, their inhibitions got lower and the questions got raunchier. Dean definitely took a sip when Rebecca asked about their most embarrassing sexual arousal or experience; the memory of getting off while Cas was asleep in their tent was never going to be mentioned.

Finally, the question no one wanted to answer was asked by Rachel: “Do you have a crush on anyone in this room?”

“No,” from Ingrid.

Charlie took a drink.

Gilda said, “Yes.” No one asked her to elaborate.

A duo of noes from Harry and Ed were next, and a “yes” from Bart.

It was Dean’s turn. He wanted to say no, but he knew it was a lie, and everyone else would probably be able to tell. Instead, he took an uneasy gulp of his drink, to a rousing chorus of _oohs_ and _ahs_. Dean could feel his face turn red, but no one could ask him to elaborate or anything.

It was Cas’s turn next, and Dean fully expected a distinct no from his friend, only to see him take a drink instead. It was as good as a yes, of course, just as Dean’s had been. He searched the room, eyeing all the girls suspiciously. He stopped on Charlie; she and Cas had dated once, maybe Cas still had a thing for her. Dean could deal with that. Charlie was one of the few people actually good enough for Cas, and Dean could step back and let them do their thing if they wanted.

On the other hand, maybe Cas was just being nice, and by not saying no was sparing the feelings of anyone who might have had a crush on him. 

It would have been better if he'd just said no. He couldn’t help that tiny voice in the back of his head that said that Cas drank rather than answer for the same reason Dean had. He dismissed the thought as soon as he had it; there was no way Dean was that lucky.

* * *

Leaving Cas behind this time was harder than ever. As Dean sat in his mom’s car, driving back to Lawrence, he couldn’t help feeling like he was leaving the real Dean and his real life back in Tulsa. In Lawrence, he was going to have to make sure to be exactly who his father thought he was supposed to be. And whoever that person was, he definitely did not have a crush on a boy, let alone was testing the shape of the word bisexual in his mouth. According to his dad, being gay—or unmanly in any way—was the worst thing to be. And here was Dean failing in every way. 

Everything was going to change. Dean was starting a new school, full of strangers who were older and bigger than him, teachers who didn’t know his name, and harder schoolwork. It would all be so much easier if he only had Cas beside him. The loss of Cas burned like the fires they’d roasted marshmallows over while camping. Dean had monthly visitations with his mom, and could call her whenever he wanted, but time with Cas was limited to waiting on Cas’s phone calls and letters. It was going to be absolute torture to be away from him.


	14. March 1994

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> Dean/Tessa  
> Mentioned sexual acts between minors  
> Homophobic language, including the use of the word _queer_ as a slur

Dean was now a man. Part of him wanted to tell his dad what had just happened to prove it to him once and for all. He walked up the stairs to his bedroom, still not believing that Tessa had done that. He still had math homework to do—which was supposed to have been done at Tessa’s, that’s why he had gone over there. What had happened instead made this the best day of his life so far.

It had all started the second week of school. Dean was still reeling from leaving his mom’s—and Cas—and hadn’t yet acclimated to his new school. His high school was at least three times the size of his middle school, and it turned out seniors were even bigger than he had expected. High school was a terrible and overwhelming place, so when the pretty and popular sophomore had approached him at his locker, he was not about to pass up an opportunity like that.

“Hey,” she'd said. “You’re Dean, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I’m Tessa. You should come by my table at lunch today.”

Needless to say, Dean did—Tessa was hot. She was also cool, with her hair dyed black and her ears pierced twice. Once they started hanging out, the whole school noticed. Suddenly, everyone wanted to talk to Dean, his classmates all wanted to sit next to him, and even seniors knew his name. Overnight popularity and a hot girl interested in him—it was more than Dean could have ever hoped for. By the time homecoming came around, he and Tessa were officially boyfriend and girlfriend.

Cas was still his best friend, and they talked on the phone all the time, but, without him there on a daily basis, the weird way Dean felt about him didn’t seem as important—especially not when Dean had a girlfriend. Not that he told Cas about Tessa. Or Tessa about Cas, really. It was a lot easier and less confusing that way.

There were perks about having a girlfriend. Tessa, being a year older than Dean, was a little more experienced than him. She really liked making out, and she was way better at it than Meg had been. Just before Christmas, she’d let Dean get to second base. That had been the best day of Dean’s life. He actually touched boob—under the bra boob. Needless to say, he jacked off to that memory for months afterwards.

Tessa made it clear she was a virgin and intended to stay that way until her senior prom. Dean was totally cool with that; he wasn’t in any hurry to cross that threshold himself. That was some serious shit. Their makeout sessions were starting to leave him pretty frustrated, though. Then, tonight, when she got down on her knees—

Well, he wasn’t frustrated anymore.

“Dad’ll be pissed at you for not getting your homework done before going out,” Sam rolled his eyes when he saw Dean at the desk in their shared bedroom.

“I had a study date,” Dean contested.

“Yeah, right.”

“Shut up.” Dean threw his pencil across the room and hit Sam’s arm. Sam barely reacted, except to pick it up off the ground and keep it.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean replied.

“Fine,” Sam grumbled. “But I have a test first thing in the morning, so you can’t keep me awake with the desk lamp on, okay.”

“You’re not gonna be up all night studying like normal people?” Dean smirked.

“No, Dean. I’ve already studied. My teacher says the best way to pass a test is to get a full night’s sleep the night before.”

“You are such a loser.”

Sam plopped down on his bed, sending a pile of dirty clothes flying to the floor. “Did you tell your girlfriend about your boyfriend, yet?”

“Dude,” Dean groused. “Stop calling Cas my boyfriend.”

“How did you know I meant Cas?”

Dean bounded away from the desk and grabbed the arm Sam was dangling off his bed. “You think it’s funny, but you say that sorta thing around dad, and he’s gonna kick my ass.”

“Maybe you should try being less gay.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what my _girlfriend_ just did for me.”

“Ew.” Sam wrenched his arm away and covered both his ears with his hands.

Dean grabbed some of the dirty clothes off of the floor and dumped them onto his brother. 

“Hey!” Sam complained, but Dean ignored him and grabbed his homework from the desk. 

Dean settled into one of the chairs on the back porch with his math book. The porch light attracted moths, but they were less of a bother than an asshole little brother. 

“I thought I told you to get your homework done before you went out,” his dad’s gruff voice interrupted his work. He hadn’t heard the door open nor noticed his dad sit in the chair beside him.

“I had a study date,” Dean stammered.

“With your girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged. He could feel his cheeks redden, and hoped the light was dim enough that his dad wouldn’t see.

“Well, son, I know how distracting girlfriends can be—believe me, I know—but you’re going to have to get your work done before you meet up with her.” He had a beer in his hand and a spare one open on the table. “I expect you to be a role model for your younger brothers.”

“Sammy doesn’t need anyone to tell him to do his homework,” Dean groaned.

“No, but he needs someone to teach him about girls. He hasn’t had the interest in them that you’ve had. God help us if he turns out to be a queer.”

“Yeah,” Dean huffed. He didn’t know what else to say. Defending Sam would open himself up to dangerous questions, and he couldn’t afford that—especially not when the situation was resolved by the aforementioned girlfriend. 

“Get your homework done before midnight,” his dad said. He stood, taking the empty beer bottle and the one he was still drinking with him. “At least I don’t have to worry about you being that way.”


	15. Summer 1994, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this has taken so long to update. I've been busy working on my DCBB.
> 
> The warnings for this chapter are included in the tags.

“I’ll miss you more,” Dean professed.

“No, I’ll miss you more,” Tessa countered. “I can’t believe you’re going to be away all summer. This sucks.”

Dean blushed at her word choice. She’d given him another blow job the day before as a going away present. “I do have a phone at my mom’s.”

“But I like having you close by,” she whined. “I’m going to miss this.” She kissed him softly on the lips. “I’m going to miss this.” She took one of his larger hands in hers. He’d been trying to return the favor lately, with varying rates of success.

Dean moved away from her to toss a few more things into his duffel bag—mostly books. “Do you think I need both _Catch-22_ and _Brave New World_?” he asked, holding them up.

“Uh, why would you need either of them?” Tessa squinted at the two books. “Aren’t those Junior English assigned books?”

“Yeah. Mr. Elkins recommended them because I was kind of not challenged in class.”

“Not challenged in Honors English?” Tessa glared at him skeptically. “I can’t believe you’re a closet nerd.”

While Dean didn’t appreciate her use of the word closet, he blew it off and chuckled at her disbelief. He tossed both books into his bag. “I should bring both. Cas probably hasn’t read either of them.”

“Is that your dorky friend? Cass?”

Yup, that’s Cas. Dorky, nerdy, socially awkward Cas. Definitely not a tanned, athletic, gorgeous track and swim team star who still played a starring role in at least one wet dream a week.

“Yeah,” he finally answered. “It’s Cas, not Cass, though.” He emphasized the final _s_ sound on the latter. “It’s short for Castiel.”

“That’s a weird name,” she commented.

“He’s a weird, dorky guy,” Dean laughed. Tessa hung on his arm while he finished packing up his stuff. His mom would be here soon, and then there’d be the four-hour drive to Tulsa and his other life.

“I think my parents will let me visit you,” Tessa offered.

“Cool.”

“Just cool?” she frowned. 

Dean gave his girlfriend his total attention; he knew he had screwed up. “I don’t want to get my hopes up, Tess. My mom might not let you visit.”

Tessa accepted this answer, and they trudged with his bags downstairs to wait for his mom.

“You must be Tessa,” Dean’s mom smirked upon meeting her. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Winchester,” Tessa replied with as much respect as she could muster.

“Mrs. Winchester is Dean’s stepmother. I’m Ms. Campbell.”

With that, Dean made his exit as quickly as possible. “Bye, Tess! I’ll call you later.”

In the car, Dean’s mom interrogated him about his girlfriend. She didn’t ask about any of the embarrassing stuff, thank God, but she clearly wanted to. 

“Seriously, mom, can we stop talking about Tessa?”

“Well, sue me for wanting to know more about my son’s first girlfriend,” she teased. “Do you really like her?”

“She’s cool,” Dean shrugged.

“Wow,” she mouthed, but she dropped the conversation. Dean didn’t know how to answer her questions. Tessa was so hot, and she made him popular; she was really cool, too. Dean liked hanging out with her, he liked making out, he liked fooling around, but everyone kept acting like he was supposed to be in love with her. He’s fifteen years old, for Christ’s sake, and he’s not supposed to pull some sort of destined to be Romeo and Juliet crap. His mom would probably be pissed if she knew they were doing some sex stuff, but they would all freak out if Dean wanted to marry her or something.

There was a ton of traffic on the highway, so they took an extra two hours to make the drive. By the time they got to Tulsa, Dean was starving, his legs were stiff, and he needed to pee so badly his vision was starting to blur. They pulled into the parking lot of his mom’s apartment building and Dean rushed out of the car, past a tall guy leaning against the brick façade. He was halfway up the stairs when he realized his mistake, and took them two at a time downstairs.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas smirked. Even Dean’s mom was laughing as she stepped out of the car into the afternoon sun.

Cas had had another growth spurt, and it looked fucking good on him. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, his long forearms tanned and muscular and his calves sinewy. His hair was highlighted from the sun and had dried tousled, like he’d been swimming all day—which he probably had been. He was the very picture of masculinity and _Teen Beat_ sex appeal. If, at that moment, someone had asked Dean the name of his girlfriend, he wouldn’t have been able to remember. He could have been wetting his pants, and he wouldn’t have noticed unless Cas had pointed out the puddle. His world had been shrunk down to the size of one almost-fifteen-year-old boy.

He was so screwed.

* * *

They were hanging out in Cas’s room a week later. Cas was lounging on his bed, long and lean; his T-shirt had ridden up to expose a flat stomach with a trail of dark hair heading down to his jeans. His stocking feet crossed over Charlie’s legs, as she sat at the foot of the bed, knees towards her chin. Dean was on the floor, trying to pretend he was focusing on anything other than the four inches of skin above the waistband of Cas’s jeans.

“We should get ice cream,” Charlie suggested.

Instantly, Dean’s mind was filled with images of chocolate ice cream melting in fat drops down Cas’s stomach. He shook the thoughts out and reached over to the nightstand to angle the fan towards him. He had to stop this sort of thing; it was one thing to let fantasies take over while alone in his bed or the shower. Dean had to learn to be smarter; either Charlie or Cas, himself, could make out the strain in his shorts.

“Ice creams sounds good,” Cas agreed.

Yeah, after his experiences with Tessa, Dean was not going to be able to handle Cas eating an ice cream cone—he had such plush lips and that long tongue. _Jesus Christ_ —Dean was never going to survive this. He carefully adjusted himself through his pocket, stood up, and immediately turned away from his friends. “I’ve got to pee,” he lied, then headed for the bathroom.

It was a quick thing, and soon Dean had cleaned up and was exiting the bathroom to join his friends. They had left Cas’s room and were standing around the living room with Cas’s mom and a short, dark haired old guy.

“Hello, there,” the old guy said brightly in a British accent.

“Uh,” Cas started. “Dean this is my mom’s _boyfriend_ , Crowley. This is my best friend Dean.” He made a face at Dean over Crowley’s shoulder.

“What are you three up to?” Crowley asked.

“We’re heading out for ice cream,” Charlie offered. 

“How all-American,” Crowley smiled.

“Castiel,” Mrs. Novak warned. “Do I have to remind you not to spoil your dinner?”

“Yes?” Cas replied with a lilt to his voice. “We were going to get pizza later, since you’re going out.”

“Pizza?” Crowley scoffed. “You should get something more interesting than that!” He pulled out a thick wallet and counted out one twenty after another. “My treat,” he said as he handed the money to Cas. “You’re young, you should have fun while you can.”

“Thanks,” Cas shrugged.

So, instead of ice cream and a late dinner, the three of them invited a couple other friends to spend Crowley’s money on a huge dinner at a Chinese restaurant. Dean piled lo mein, egg rolls, and sweet and sour pork on his plate, stuffing huge bites into his mouth.

“So, Crowley?” he asked Cas through a messy mouthful.

“He’s trying to be my friend.” Cas rolled his eyes and took another serving of fried rice. “It’s cool, I guess.”

“Man, I wish my stepmom had tried to be my friend.”

“He’s not my stepdad,” Cas growled. “He’s just my mom’s boyfriend.”

“I know,” Dean reassured him. “Probably makes it even weirder.” He reached over and squeezed his friend’s shoulder. It was definitely more muscular than it had been the previous year. “Dude, are you working out or something?”

“Uh, yeah,” Cas blushed. “My swim coach recommended a weightlifting routine.”

“Cool.” Dean realized he was still squeezing Cas’s shoulder and pulled his hand away. “Hey, Gilda, mind passing the kung pao chicken?”

Dean threw himself into his food, not paying any attention to the flex of Cas’s newly formed bicep as he brought chopsticks to his mouth. God, he was so hot.

When the food was gone, the waiter brought out the bill and a tray of fortune cookies. Dean knew better than to crack one open and look at the fortune, but Cas took one. Dean watched as he tore it open, read his fortune, blanched, and shoved it in his pocket. 

“What did it say?” Dean asked with a smirk.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

“Dude, that’s for birthday wishes.”

Cas frowned. “Maybe whatever it says is also what I wish for on my birthday.”

“Awww,” Dean squealed sarcastically. “Are you turning seven this year?”

“Shut up,” Cas groaned.

“Seriously, let me see it,” Dean argued. Dean grabbed towards Cas’s pockets, only to miss.

They both froze, and Dean backed his hand away from his best friend’s junk. Unfortunately, Dean’s mind was already racing because now he was thinking about his best friend’s junk. What exactly he was thinking—him being the one on his knees—was not anything he’d ever want his dad or his girlfriend to ever think him capable of. Well, he didn’t exactly want anyone knowing about his secret desires, especially not Cas. He was pretty certain saying _I want to give you a blow job_ was a guaranteed way to destroy a friendship.

One way or another.

* * *

Dean had been trying to get Cas to play baseball with him for years, to no avail. Cas claimed he had no hand eye coordination, so, despite the fact that he was the fastest runner Dean had ever seen, they’d never played together. It was a pretty big surprise, then, that Cas was the one who suggested they get a couple teams together and play.

It was the first week of July, hot and humid as hell, and Dean’s T-shirt clung uncomfortably to his shoulders and stomach. They started the game on defense, with Dean taking his school position at shortstop. He’d stuck Cas in left field, where his speed could be put to good use—if he could catch anything. Charlie was at first base, shouting rude things to the kid at bat Dean didn’t know. Dean caught the ball and tossed it to Charlie to get him out, but he’d already reached the base.

The bases were loaded, but the next batter, Jonah, hit straight to left field.

“Cas, get it, buddy,” Dean encouraged. The ball overshot him, but Cas was fast enough to hustle to the ball before anyone could get on base. He hesitated, however, as to where to throw it once he’d caught it. “Third base,” Dean shouted, and Cas made a clumsy throw towards Bart, who stumbled, but caught it.

That was the other team’s third out, so it was time to switch positions. Gilda was up first; she played softball and was her team’s best hitter, according to Charlie. She had no problem getting on base. Soon enough, Dean was hovering around first base, waiting for Daniel to bat cleanup. He could hear the rest of his team shouting as the ball went further and further out, but Dean couldn’t let himself pay attention—he had three bases to get round. The ball came back into play as he was heading for home, so he made a desperate slide and—

“Safe,” the kid who was chosen as umpire shouted.

Dean should have known better than to slide; he hobbled back to the bench as Charlie stepped up to bat.

“Dean,” Cas admonished as he examined the scratches on Dean’s arm and the swelling in his ankle.

Dean rolled his eyes at Cas’s mother-hen treatment of him. “Cas, I’m fine. You gotta focus on your at-bat. You’re up last.”

“I’m not going to make a hit of any consequence, Dean.”

“All you have to do is get on first base,” Dean informed him. “Then let Gilda work her magic and get you round the bases like the speed demon you are.”

“I don’t think that’s happening,” Cas argued.

“Sure, it is. Any idiot can swing a bat.” Cas leveled him with an imperious glare. “Okay, okay,” Dean placated. “I’ll give you some pointers.”

He picked up a bat, handed it to Cas, and told him to get into position. His arms were wrong, his head was too far forward, and his hips were out of alignment; it was a mess. Dean stepped behind his friend and tried to move Cas’s body into the right stance. He placed one hand on each of Cas’s hips and tried to shift them, only to have Cas tense up on him.

“Uh, Dean, what are you doing?”

Dean could feel his cheeks burn even in the summer heat and he backed away. “Your stance is all wrong,” he mumbled.

Cas turned around and gave him one of those deep, soulful looks, head tilted to the side, like he could read every sordid thought swimming around Dean’s head. “Maybe show me from here,” he suggested and got back into batting stance.

“I have to…” Dean gestured that he was going to have to get close and touch Cas. Cas nodded his assent, and Dean put his hands back on Cas’s hips to shift them into the right position. And, oh, this was so much worse. “Now it looks like we’re slow dancing,” he quipped, desperately trying to calm himself.

“You could do worse,” Cas smirked.

“I’m going to have to move your arm,” Dean warned. He put his hands on Cas’s upper arm, feeling the bicep strain under his grip. Their faces were so close, and Dean remembered the times he foolishly almost kissed his friend. “And keep your head back.” Dean stood back to judge and nodded his approval. “Looking good, Cas.”

Cas took an experimental swing, and beamed. They heard the umpire call “out,” from the field.

“That would be Ed,” Cas grimaced.

“Okay, buddy, you’re on deck. Just keep your eye on the ball.”

Dean watched as Cas moved into the circle with his bat. Unlike his best friend, Harry managed to hit the ball, but it was a pop fly to center field, and he was out before he ever made it to first base. If Cas struck out, or—less likely—got tagged out, they were done for the inning. He stepped up to bat, glancing over his shoulder at Dean, who tried to smile reassuringly.

The first pitch was a ball. “Shake it off, Cas,” Charlie shouted from the bench. The pitcher threw again, Cas swung, and the ball went straight into the catcher’s mitt.

“That’s okay. You got two more tries,” Dean called.

Another pitch and Cas swung; the bat made contact with the ball and it went straight out to left field. Cas dropped the ball and started running to first base. He made it there with no problem, and Dean shouted for him to head for second.

He didn’t get there before the outfield got the ball to the baseman, and became their third out. He trudged back to the bench to pick up his glove.

“I’m sorry, man,” Dean said. “I shouldn’t have urged you to take another base.”

“Dean,” Cas replied with his eyes huge and sympathetic. “This wasn’t your fault; I am capable of making my own decisions, and I wanted to be the hero of the game.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Guess you weren’t fast enough.”

Cas swatted at him with his glove still in his hand. Dean dodged the blow and took his position between second and third base. 

The next inning went quickly. Ed, having been mortified at being the first out, brought his best pitching game to the mound, and got three outs from the first five at bat. Once their team was at bat again, Cas managed to get on base, and made it home on Dean’s successful second swing. He hovered on the sidelines until Dean made it home, too, and they walked to the bench together, Cas’s arm triumphantly around Dean’s shoulder. 

It felt like home.

They won the game. Their superior batting, plus Ed’s superior pitching made it a sure thing. Dean was collecting and redistributing gear when he caught sight of a black suited man by the fence.

“Hey,” he nudged Cas. “Isn’t that your mom’s boyfriend?”

Cas turned to where Dean was pointing and squinted into the sun. “Yeah,” he replied.

They trotted over to the fence.

“Hello, boys,” Crowley drawled. “You look good out there. You didn’t tell me you were an athlete, Castiel.”

“Baseball’s Dean’s game,” Cas explained.

“You’re a natural as far as I can tell,” Crowley disagreed. “Can I give you boys a ride home? Or maybe stop off for some ice cream?” He indicated a limo parked behind him, where a dark-suited man in sunglasses stood at the wait.

Cas turned towards Dean with a questioning shrug; Dean nodded. “Yeah.” He turned back towards Crowley. “We’ll grab our stuff.”

“Excellent,” Crowley smiled.

“Dude, what does he do?” Dean whispered once they were away from the fence.

“I think he’s in real estate. He met mother when he was meeting with the superintendent over school land or something.”

“You definitely want him to be your stepdad,” Dean joked.

Cas narrowed his eyes to slits. “Dean,” he growled.

They retrieved Dean’s two mitts, and his bat, and headed back to the waiting limousine, where Crowley was already inside.

He handed each boy a glass with something pale and bubbly in it. Cas took one sip, and proclaimed, “Champagne!”

“To celebrate a hard won victory,” Crowley explained. “Just don’t tell your mother.”

Dean took a big gulp; he’d had champagne once before, at a family wedding when he was twelve. The bubbles went straight to his head, and Cas wasn’t any better. He was downright giggly, but he wasn’t clingy like he got when they drank beer the previous summer. Every time Cas emptied a glass, Crowley was there to fill it up again. He wasn’t quite as generous with Dean, but Dean figured he wasn’t the one Crowley was trying to impress.

Crowley sent his chauffeur to get their ice cream, while the three of them waited in the limo. It was a good thing, too, because both Dean and Cas had had enough champagne to be drunk. Cas licked his ice cream cone sloppily, the ice cream dripping lazily down his chin and fingers. Everyone involved was extremely lucky there was a boring adult in the car with them because Dean was losing all sense of control.

“I can’t drop you boys off like this,” Crowley lamented once they were nearing the apartment building. “I’ll have my driver take us to my house and you boys can watch TV until you sober up. Serves me right for not knowing how much champagne young boys can handle.”

“Uh,” Dean hesitated. “My mom won’t be home from work yet, so it doesn’t matter. I’ll sleep it off.” He really needed to get some privacy and deal with the situation in his pants.

“Castiel?” Crowley turned to the other boy.

“I’ll crash at Dean’s. Gabe’ll cover for me,” Cas slurred.

The limo pulled to a stop and they got out and headed upstairs. Dean took care of business in the bathroom, and stepped out to crash in his bed. Cas was already out and snoring in it instead. They were too big now to share Dean’s tiny twin size bed, so Dean collapsed on the floor and laid his head on the mattress. Cas’s folded hands were right by Dean’s head, and he couldn’t help but lightly touch those beautiful fingers. 

He’d been asleep for about twenty minutes when he was awoken by the phone. Somehow in his sleep, he’d transitioned from stroking Cas’s hand to holding it, so he reluctantly extracted his fingers from his friend’s grip and got up to answer the phone.

“Hi, Dean,” Tessa’s voice came over the receiver.

“Hey, Tess,” Dean grimaced. His head was still foggy from the champagne, and even foggier from his Cas-centric dreams.

“So, my parents said I could come visit you this weekend.”

“Great!” Dean exclaimed. Some time with his girlfriend would go a long way to getting his Cas related thoughts under control—shit, Cas! Next weekend was his birthday. “Uh, the weekend after that would be better.”

“Can’t,” Tessa replied. “I start my job as a camp counselor July fifteenth. This is our last chance to see each other until September.”

Dean’s heart sank, but there was nothing he could do.

“Yeah, okay; I’ll check with my mom and see you then.”

They hung up and Dean returned to his room. Cas stirred awake and sleepily mumbled. “Dean,” he smiled.

Dean carded his hand through his friend’s hair, and Cas drifted back to sleep. He still didn’t know Dean had a girlfriend, and now she was going to come and spoil his birthday. Dean had screwed up big time.

* * *

Three days later, Dean’s mom had tentatively approved Tessa’s stay, and Dean had no choice but to tell Cas about her. The only way Dean’s mom would let her stay was if she and Dean were separated by more than the thin walls of his room. She wanted Dean to stay with the Novaks and Tessa to stay in Dean’s room, but that required explanations.

“I’m kind of nostalgic for the water park,” Cas mused. “But it’d be cheaper to have a party at the pool.”

The TV hissed out another music video. Cas had bought one of those TV-VCR combos with money from his job at Marv’s bookstore for his bedroom, but the Novaks couldn’t afford cable. Gabe, who still shared the room, had hooked something up from one of the neighbor’s feeds. It was unreliable and full of snow and static that sometimes completely obscured the images, but they didn’t care. 

“Maybe you should get your mom’s rich boyfriend to rent us a boat on the river. He’s so desperate to get on your good side he’d probably do it.”

“Great,” Cas deadpanned. “Why’s he so obsessed with currying my favor? I mean, I’m not the one freaking out about my mom having a boyfriend. Hannah cried for two days after mom told her. If he makes mom happy, what do I care?”

Dean leaned against Gabe’s bed and spread out his legs. “Hey, buddy, speaking of people with boyfriends and girlfriends,” he began. “My girlfriend is coming to visit this weekend.”

“Oh,” Cas exclaimed. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

“Well, yeah, you know, girls can’t resist me,” Dean snickered.

Cas rolled his eyes fondly. “Would she rather come to a pool party, the waterpark, or a boat on the river?”

That was…disappointing. Dean wasn’t sure what reaction he’d wanted, but it wasn’t the brush off he received. “We’ve been together since October.”

Cas’s eyes widened. “That’s been a while. You never mentioned her.”

“I was a little busy getting to third base,” Dean bragged.

“Is that a baseball metaphor?” Cas’s eyes narrowed and he did the—not adorable—head tilting thing again.

The music video on the TV came to an end, and the next show started. 

_This is the true story…of seven strangers…_

Scenes of San Francisco flashed on the screen as the cast was introduced. “I’ve heard about this season,” Dean offered.

“That guy’s gay,” Cas confirmed.

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence, watching the lives of other people unfold on screen. There was some obnoxious asshole making everyone else miserable, but the gay guy was the only one that captured Dean’s attention. He’d never seen anyone who was openly gay before. 

“What’s her name?” Cas asked, picking up their conversation out of the blue.

“Tessa.”

“Sounds pretty,” Cas mused.

“She is,” Dean said.

“Are you sure…” Cas hesitated. “…you’re not moving too fast. I mean, I don’t know exactly what third base means, but, based on my recent experience playing baseball, I’d have to guess it’s past first and second bases, and I can only guess what home plate is.”

“Dude,” Dean said with a sneer. “You’re just jealous I’m getting some, while you probably think French kissing is a big deal.”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas frowned. “That’s exactly what’s going on here. I have such a reputation as a prude that you had to ask _me_ what French kissing was like two years ago.”

“Yeah, well…can’t help it if you stalled, buddy.”

“You’re an ass,” Cas huffed. “You should probably go call your girlfriend and plan your weekend. I’m halfway through _Moby Dick_ and I really want to see if he finds the whale.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but gathered his stuff anyway and headed out of Cas’s apartment. He was already down the hall when he had a change of heart. He stomped back towards their apartment, through the unlocked door, past a surprised Hannah, and into Cas and Gabe’s room. Cas looked up from his book—he actually _was_ reading _Moby Dick_ —and frowned.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my girlfriend.”

“I don’t care,” Cas replied coldly.

“I’m sorry she’s coming to visit on your birthday weekend. She says it’s the only time she can come, and I know she’ll break up with me if we spend an entire summer apart.” He sat down on the floor, shoulder to shoulder with Cas. 

“Sounds like a pretty crappy girlfriend.”

“Nah, she’s awesome. She doesn’t know it’s your birthday. It’s not like I told her…” he hesitated. 

“Told her what?” Cas asked.

“Come on, man, you know. She thinks we’re just regular best friends.” 

“Aren’t we?” Cas’s eyebrows shot up. Dean placed his forehead on his friend’s shoulder. He couldn’t say what he wanted to say. He couldn’t say that he wished he was doing the things he was doing with Tessa with Cas instead. He couldn’t say that he’d never be in love with Tessa because….

_Never going there._

“We’re family,” he whispered instead. 

Cas leaned his head against Dean’s in response, and the two sat there like that for several minutes, while the _The Real World_ finished and the next show began.

“I think I’ll have a pool party,” Cas finally broke the silence.

The spell broken, Dean sat up straight again. He carefully examined Cas’s face to make sure he wasn’t mad anymore. “How about a slumber party?” he asked, smirking.

Cas crinkled his brows. “Are you confusing me with my little sister?”

“While Tessa is in town, my mom wants me to bunk with you. We’ll stay up late and watch lame movies on your VCR,” Dean said.

"Oh," Cas said, trying to hide a genuine smile. “I guess you having a girlfriend isn’t all bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas are watching the second episode of _The Real World: San Francisco_ , and are discussing cast member Pedro Zamora, who was both openly gay and HIV positive.


	16. Summer 1994, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> Castiel/Hester  
> Spoilers for the 1984 _Ghostbusters_ and _Forrest Gump_  
>  Derogatory language about the intellectually disabled in regards to the character Forrest Gump

Tessa drove herself all the way from Lawrence. She arrived in Tulsa Friday afternoon with her mom’s car stuffed full with fast food wrappers and proceeded to pull Dean into the backseat for a heavy makeout session before she’d come upstairs.

He’d fitted his bed with fresh sheets and removed anything embarrassing from his little room. This, of course, included any books deemed too nerdy for her eyes, like his science fiction collection, and anything they were going to read in school. Especially since all the books he’d brought with him were already dog-eared and worn from both him and Cas reading them. 

“Wow, your room here is really small,” she said once she’d plopped down her weekend bag in it.

“Well, it’s just my mom most of the time, so it’s not worth her getting a real two-bedroom,” Dean answered. He found a stray sock sticking out behind his dresser and grabbed it before Tessa could see it.

“Why doesn’t Sam come too?” Tessa asked as she tested out the cheap mattress. It definitely gave Dean ideas that did not involve his little brother.

“My summers here aren’t part of my parents’ custody agreement or anything. My dad just didn’t want me around in the summer when I was a kid, and now we’re all used to it. Guess he likes Sam more.”

Angel the cat, fatter and grouchier than ever, came into Dean’s room and stole the sock from the laundry basket where Dean had dropped it. He sniffed curiously at Tessa’s ankles before letting out a baleful meow and returning to his normal territory in the living room.

“So if you didn’t want to come, you wouldn’t have to?” she asked pointedly.

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. But I do want to spend my summers here. I mean, I love my mom, I get out from under my dad’s eye, and my best friend since I was eight lives next door.”

“I don’t live here,” Tessa pouted.

“You’re here now,” Dean countered and leaned into kiss her.

They made out for a few minutes before the sound of the door opening sprung them apart, even though logic would have told Dean it was still too early for his mom to be home from work.

“Dean!” a familiar deep voice rang through the apartment.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean answered, popping his head out of the doorway to beckon his friend inside. “This is my girlfriend, Tessa.”

Cas had clearly dressed for the occasion—the bastard. He had on an old, worn-out pair of jeans that his muscular thighs had outgrown months ago and a snug T-shirt with a faded slogan. Dean had promised Tessa a dorky, awkward nerd who read too much, and he was instead presenting her with Luke Perry’s better looking younger brother. She noticed, too. How could she not?—Cas was fucking hot.

He stretched his long arms above his head, hanging onto the top of the jamb, and revealing another tantalizing strip of stomach. “Hey, Tessa,” he said. “Do you want to come to my birthday party on Sunday?”

“Is it your birthday?” she asked and slapped Dean’s arm soundly. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your friend’s birthday?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Cas offered. “I’m sure he didn’t want to dissuade you from coming; I know how much he’s missed you.” Tessa wouldn’t have been able to notice, but Dean caught a pointed glare from his friend in his direction. “I’d like to have you both at my party, though—it’s just going to be all my friends at the pool.”

“Yeah, I think that’d be great! I brought my favorite swimsuit, so I’m all set for lounging in the sun with my boyfriend.” She smiled indulgently at Dean, but she hadn’t noticed the tension between the two friends.

“Well, I’ll see you tonight, buddy,” Dean tried to dismiss him. 

“Hey,” Tessa interrupted. “We should go on a double date tomorrow!” Dean seized up at her suggestion. He wanted to keep the two of them as separate as possible. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No,” Cas said. “But I have a few girls—“

Dean spoke over him. “You could ask Charlie.”

“Charlie?” Tessa’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you _gay_?”

“If you want Charlie to come, too, you can ask her,” Cas hissed angrily, completely ignoring Tessa. “I’ll ask Meg.”

“Not Meg,” Dean interjected. Cas still didn’t know, even years after, that Meg had kissed Dean in the girls’ restroom. Even worse, Dean was certain Meg had been able to tell that he had a crush on Cas. So, even if bile wasn’t churning in his stomach at the thought of Cas out with Meg, kissing and cuddling, possibly learning all about the bases, Meg was a definite no.

“I’ll ask someone else, then,” Cas responded calmly. “One of the benefits of being single is that I’m not stuck with just one girl. No offense, Tessa.”

“Uh, yeah,” Tessa stammered. She kept looking over at Dean like she couldn’t believe his weird friend. Dean, in turn, glared at Cas because he was being an asshat. Cas, of course, stood there calmly as if he wasn’t being the world’s biggest douchebag about this.

“Well, my brother is training to be a chef and he’s cooking me a special dinner to celebrate. It’s a family thing, just my mom, her boyfriend, and my brother and sister. Otherwise I’d invite both of you.”

Once he was gone, Tessa turned to Dean and let loose. “Oh my God, your friend is gorgeous. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dean laughed uneasily. “Like that wouldn’t be awkward.”

“He’s kind of rude, though, don’t you think?”

“Cas has no social skills. He’s just a weird, dorky guy.” Dean desperately wracked his brain for something to change the subject to. “So, you brought a swimsuit; is it a bikini?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

They made out some more, and that turned into fooling around. Dean did not think about Cas during the good part. He thought about his beautiful, sexy, awesome girlfriend like any normal fifteen-year-old guy would.

They settled in on the sofa in the living room, watching a movie on cable. When Dean’s mom came home, there was no evidence that they’d ever done anything X-rated in his bedroom.

“You’re not going over to the Novaks?” his mom asked, as she collapsed into her favorite chair. “Mrs. Novak called me at work and invited us for dinner. Gabe’s cooking.”

“I see Cas every day, mom.” Dean rolled his eyes and pretended that being uninvited to Cas’s family birthday celebration didn’t hurt. “Tessa is here for three days.”

“Well, maybe they’ll save you some dessert for later. I think Gabe is studying pastry right now, so it should be fantastic.”

Dean took Tessa out to his favorite pizza place for dinner, instead. They ran into Charlie, who was out with Gilda and a couple more of her girlfriends, so Dean was able to introduce them all to Tessa before the pool party on Sunday. Charlie was as surprised as Dean’s mom to find out that Dean wasn’t going to be at Cas’s special family birthday dinner. Dean could only pick at his pizza, knowing he could instead be eating something spectacular with Cas.

“What is your problem?” Tessa asked. She was driving them back to the apartment complex after dinner.

“Oh come on, you pouted for a week when you thought Billie bought the same denim jacket you had.”

“So this is about your friend?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry to show up and ruin your boys only summer,” she pouted.

“Hey, it’s not that,” Dean argued. “I feel bad.”

“Well, you’re no good to me all pouty like this. I’m pretty tired from the drive. Why don’t you head over, make peace with your friend, and I’ll see you in the morning?”

“You’re the best, Tess.” Dean reached over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Once they were home, Dean grabbed his stuff, kissed Tessa gratefully, and said goodnight to his mom. He didn’t ask her what she’d done for dinner. There were no dishes in the drying rack or any sign that she’d ordered delivery, so Dean was certain the invitation to Cas’s family birthday dinner had been rescinded only for him. 

“Hey, there, Deano,” Gabe greeted him at the door to the Novaks. He and Cas didn’t bother knocking when their mothers weren’t home, but the whole family was there and that was weird. “Sorry you couldn’t make it here to eat any of my masterpiece. I know Cas was pretty bummed. He’s in our room, being a baby. I put new sheets and shit on my bed for you, so don’t be gross and ruin them.”

Dean rolled his eyes, and continued on towards Cas’s room. He threw open the door, and heard the sounds of moaning, which suddenly stopped as Cas looked up at him from his spot on the floor in front of his TV.

“Dude,” Dean coughed. He shut the door behind him. “Are you watching porn?”

Cas gave him a defiant glare. “Yes.”

“Where’d you get porn?” Dean didn’t look down at his friend. He kept his eyes on the wall opposite him where it was safe.

“Found it,” Cas shrugged. “I guess Gabe left the tape on my TV.”

“Weird birthday present?” Despite his curiosity, Dean knew better than to ask to watch it with Cas. Guys don’t watch porn together. Guys who might have more than platonic feelings for other guys definitely don’t watch porn together. Even though they really, really want to.

“Where’s your girlfriend?”

“Probably being grilled by my mom on every detail of her life and our relationship.”

“Serves her right.”

“Okay, buddy,” Dean groaned. “Come on, put on a movie—not a dirty one.”

“I don’t want to watch a movie,” Cas said with a frown. Nevertheless, he grabbed the box of VHS tapes from under his bed. He took the porn tape—it was unlabeled—and tossed it into the box alongside a bunch of tapes they’d picked up at the thrift store. It leaned towards Dean’s tastes more than anything, so any one of them would do. Cas popped _Ghostbusters_ into the slot, and sat back to sulk as the previews ran.

It was better not to talk, and just to sit on Cas’s floor and watch a funny movie like everything was normal. Cas eventually relaxed while Dana’s eggs fried themselves on her counter. By the time Zuul had taken over, Cas was his normal sort of stoic, rather than the pissed version he’d been cultivating since Tessa had arrived.

“Why are you so upset about my girlfriend, anyway?”

Cas took a long time before answering. “I guess,” he finally said. “We don’t get many special occasions together: Christmas, your birthday, Thanksgiving—you spend all those at your dad’s. We just get the fourth of July and my birthday here. Bet you exchanged Christmas presents in person with Tessa.”

Dean nodded tersely.

“I can’t help but feel like she’s taking something away from me. Something that’s supposed to be mine,” he started, but he trailed off before waving Dean away. “Sorry, this is dumb.”

“It’s not dumb,” Dean replied. “But, dude, she’s a girlfriend; you’re family.”

“Wow, you sound really into her,” Cas deadpanned.

Things that Dean _could_ have told Cas: _I’m only with her because she makes me popular, she gets my dad off my ass, the sex stuff is awesome, I want to make out with you and maybe touch your butt, I wonder what gay guys do with each other, you and I should do that, even though I’m not exactly gay, you are so much hotter than her, I like her as a person though, she’s actually really cool, I’d still dump her in a heartbeat for you if I could, I’d like to teach you about third base, it’d probably be a lot of fun, I’ll never be in love with her—you should ask me why._

Things that Dean _did_ tell Cas: “Jealous much?”

“Yes,” Cas replied earnestly. “I thought I made that clear.”

It took three minutes of coughing and sputtering before Dean could speak again. _Not that kind of jealous_ , he told himself. “You’re always going to be my best friend,” he told Cas.

The Ghostbusters fought the Staypuft Marshmallow Man, crossing the streams and all that, and then the movie was over. “I’m hungry,” Cas said, shutting off the TV. “There’s leftovers.” A small smile crossed his face.

Gabe was on the couch watching TV when they left Cas’s room, but his mom and sister had already gone to bed. “Hey, kiddos,” he smirked when he saw them cross into the kitchen.

“I made you a plate,” Cas told Dean, blushing as he took a plate out of the fridge, a layer of plastic wrap over the top. It was piled high with stew meat and golden brown potatoes. “I left off the green beans.”

They popped it into the microwave for a few minutes, then dug into it with two forks. “Oh my god,” Dean exclaimed with his mouth full of the delicious food. The meat wasn’t stew; it was little ribs of tender, rich beef. The delicate stacks of thinly sliced potatoes were buttery and crispy. 

Gabe came into the kitchen just as Dean was licking the juices off the plate. “You and that plate want some alone time?” he joked.

“Yes,” Dean replied. “Gabe, I hope you open a restaurant someday. I’d be first in line.”

“Thanks,” Gabe said. His smile was genuine as he leaned against the archway that separated the kitchen from the small foyer near the front door.

“Seriously, Gabe, I could kiss you.”

“Wrong Novak.” A fork crashed to the ground, and Cas scrambled to pick it up. Dean looked from Cas to Gabe curiously. “Hannah,” Gabe clarified. “Hannah has a crush on you.”

“Oh,” Dean said. He’d not really noticed the thirteen-year-old acting weird around him, but, with Hannah, you never did know what you would get. She still liked to body slam her brothers and Dean when they annoyed her.

“You boys going to have some birthday cake?” Gabe asked once the tension in the room had returned to normal.

“Yes,” Cas said, speaking for the first time in several minutes. “You, too?”

“Fuck, yeah! That cake is the best thing I’ve ever made!” Gabe went to the fridge and pulled out a plastic wrap covered platter. Dean couldn’t make out any details until Cas removed the wrapping. It was a short, brown cake, decorated with a bunch of chocolate circles. “The outside,” Gabe showed off the brown mound. “And the inside.” He turned it around to where several slices had been removed. There were layers of golden jelly, creamy, pale yellow mousse, and chocolate cream. It was a masterpiece.

“Chocolate-passion fruit entremets,” Cas explained. “It’s even better than it looks, and much better than how it sounds.”

Gabe cut three generous slices, and Dean dug into each glorious layer. He’d never eaten anything better in his life; the tangy, fruity passionfruit contrasted with the dense chocolate and the light, creamy mousse. 

“Forget a kiss—Gabe, will you marry me?” Dean joked.

“You could not handle this, Campbell,” Gabe quipped.

They finished their cake, and Dean and Cas returned to Cas’s room to turn in. Dean was so happy after getting to have some of Cas’s birthday dinner, that he didn’t even force himself to look away as Cas stripped down to his underwear and pulled on a pair of pajama pants. He was probably going to spontaneously combust at the pool party on Sunday, so it was important for him to acclimate himself to seeing Cas half naked. 

He had very pleasant dreams, but he was definitely going to have to buy Gabe new sheets.

* * *

Dean spent the morning and early afternoon Saturday with Tessa. They had a picnic in Woodward Park—Cas had even given up another two slices of his birthday cake for their dessert, then took a walk through the Rose Garden and the infinitely cooler Rock Garden. Tessa really liked all that romantic stuff, and Dean owed her for being so understanding about his fight with Cas, so he made an effort.

Doing the dutiful boyfriend thing, however, took all his energy, and he fell asleep on the sofa while Tessa showered and did all the things girls did before a date. When Dean woke up, she was soft and warm, glowing, and smelled like candy. He took a quick shower himself, and changed into a nice pair of pants and a button down. He put too much gel in his hair and spilled the cologne all over his hands—no amount of handsoap would remove it all. They met up with Cas outside his apartment. He had on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and an open button down over it. Obviously, it all looked fantastic on him, like he’d spent a lot of time getting ready, even though Dean knew that shirt had been half stuck under Cas’s bed that morning. He smelled like expensive cologne, and Dean wanted to bury his face in Cas’s neck and sniff like he’d done with Tessa not ten minutes earlier. He had a weird life.

“Hester is going to meet us at the movie theater,” Cas explained as the three of them walked down the hall. “Her mother won’t let her be driven by a sixteen-year-old.”

“Says a lot for our moms, huh,” Dean laughed. 

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I’ve only gotten three tickets since I got my license,” Tessa replied, affronted.

Things remained light the entire drive to the movie theater. When they got there, a blonde girl around their ages was standing by herself in front of the box office. Dean recognized her from the team they’d played baseball against, but he hadn’t paid her much attention during the game. She was pretty, but nothing special enough for Cas. 

“I’m really glad you called, Castiel,” she said, with stars in her eyes. 

Dean and Cas each bought two tickets to _Forrest Gump_ for themselves and their dates. It had just opened, so the lines were long, but at least it wasn’t _too_ chick-flicky. 

Cas and the girls found seats in the packed theater, while Dean bought popcorn, three slushies, Twizzlers, and Raisinets—half with Cas’s money. He hauled it all to the theater and found his companions in the back row. Previews hadn’t even started yet, and Cas and Hester were already making out. Dean awkwardly took a seat next to his friend, avoiding Hester’s wandering hands.

Finally, Dean got fed up and slapped Cas’s shoulder. “Dude, at least wait ‘til the lights are out; people are starting to stare.”

Cas shrugged and sat back in his seat; his lips were swollen and red. Dean had never hated anyone in his life more than he hated Hester, with her stupid _Scarlet Letter_ name—seriously who names a kid after a famous adulteress. She didn’t know Cas as well as Dean did; she didn’t deserve his kisses, his tongue in her mouth, his hands up her shirt. She hadn’t earned any of it.

The lights finally dimmed and the previews began; Cas and Hester returned to making out. Dean clenched his fists to keep from shoving at them to stop. They continued through Forrest’s entire childhood, but, by the time Forrest was in Vietnam, Cas was as engrossed by the movie as Dean was. Tessa trailed her hands up Dean’s inner thighs, and laid her head on his shoulder, but Dean wouldn’t look away from the screen. This was the worst movie he’d ever seen. Not because of the improbable things that kept happening to Forrest, nor the saccharine sweetness of it all. Dean hated it because of Forrest and Jenny. They’d been childhood best friends, and Forrest loved her so much, but Jenny never really loved him back. She was supposed to love him back! 

The movie was finally over, and Forrest only got to be with Jenny a short time before she died. That was not fair! 

“Oh my God! That was so good!” Tessa exclaimed as they walked out of the theater.

“I know! Why aren’t more guys like Forrest?!” Hester agreed and shot a subtle glare at Cas.

“Because our IQ’s are usually higher than seventy-five?” Dean quipped.

“Most guys are not capable of loving someone like that for their whole lives,” Tessa said.

“Geez, Tess,” Dean replied. “You sound like the one with divorced parents.”

“Divorce is against God,” Hester chimed in. Apparently having a tongue down your throat wasn’t.

They’d seen an early show, so they could all walk to a nearby restaurant from the theater, avoiding Hester’s strict parents’ rules about who can drive their precious daughter. Dean and Cas still only had the under-the-counter job at Marv’s bookstore, and they weren’t exactly flush with money, so they went to one of the chain restaurants that were popping up everywhere. The menu was huge, the food was good, and they could actually afford it.

The hostess brought them to a booth, which meant a lot of uncomfortable rearranging to support the two couples. They ended up sitting couples on the same side, which meant that Dean was stuck staring at Cas across the table. It was the best view if he was honest with himself. They ordered a spinach-artichoke dip and pops to tide them over as they examined the massive menu. Well, the girls needed to read the menu; Cas and Dean both slammed down theirs within a few seconds.

When the waitress came back for the entrée orders, she took down Tessa’s grilled chicken and Hester’s French onion soup and Cobb salad. She turned to Cas, “What about you?”

“I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger with onion rings,” he smiled.

“Avocado?” she asked as she scribbled down his order

“No, thank you.”

She moved on to Dean. “And you?”

“Bacon cheeseburger,” he answered. “With fries. No avocado.”

The waitress took their menus and left to place their orders.

“Trade you half your onion rings for half my fries?” Dean asked.

“Deal.” Cas grinned his first real smile since Tessa had arrived.

“Do you two want to be alone?” Tessa deadpanned. She was joking, but there was just enough tension behind her words that Dean froze. 

Fortunately, their appetizer arrived and distracted everyone from Tessa’s comment. She couldn’t possibly mean anything by it; that was just something people said. Dean had always been so careful to talk about Cas in the least flattering terms to Tessa—he’s my dorky friend, Cas is a nerd, isn’t he awkward?—to never seem like his feelings crossed any line. He was a good boyfriend. He held her hand in public, never ignored her at dances, and remembered things like birthdays and how long they’d been dating. He’d never given her—or anyone else at school—any indication that he wasn’t straight. When they went to football games, he kept his eyes on the hot cheerleaders or the game itself and never the tight asses of the players standing around on the sidelines. It was all an easy enough ruse to maintain—until he was around Cas.

Dean had to force himself to focus on Tessa and not Cas. It didn’t help that Cas was right across the table from him, gorgeous and unattainable. His girlfriend was only here for a few days, and if he wasn’t going to start paying attention to her, he was going to lose her. Dean squeezed her knee under the table; she took his hand and held it there. 

“You okay?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Dean replied dismissively.

“Wait ‘til you see my bikini tomorrow. That’ll cheer you up.”

“Can’t wait,” Dean answered with an honest smile.

Their food arrived; Cas and Dean traded sides as promised. Tessa thankfully kept her mouth shut. The food was good, but nowhere near as good as Cas’s birthday dinner had been the night before. They talked more about the movie while they ate, the girls still finding fault in their dates for not being more like Forrest. Dean retaliated by refusing to call Tessa anything but “Jenny,” said in Forrest Gump’s slow drawl. It wasn’t anywhere near as hilarious as he pretended it was, but it distracted him from Cas and Hester probably feeling each other up under the table. 

“We should split dessert,” Hester suggested once their plates were cleared.

Dean thought longingly of the last quarter of Cas’s birthday cake waiting for them back at Cas’s, but he wasn’t about to say no to extra dessert. They ordered a cookie sundae with four forks. It arrived with three.

“We can share,” Tessa offered and, taking one of the three, broke off a chunk of cookie and ice cream and stuffed it in Dean’s mouth. It was too cold and too large of a serving and Dean coughed when he tried to swallow it.

Across the table, Cas snickered and took a bite with his own fork. He savored it like the asshole he was, rubbing it in Dean’s face that Dean was appearing whipped.

Dean didn’t know what he was thinking, but the next bite Cas went to take, Dean wrenched the fork away from him and ate off the cookie and ice cream. He then picked up another bite and shoved it at Cas.

It took Tessa glaring at him and Cas smirking at him for Dean to realize that he’d repeated Tessa’s exact actions with Cas. He could feel his cheeks redden. 

“Hey,” he blustered. “How about Lieutenant Dan, huh?”

They finished their dessert in virtual silence, then all stood outside waiting for Hester’s parents to show up. She and Cas disappeared for a few minutes to make out again. Dean kept glancing back to watch until Tessa caught him again. 

Dean and Tessa stayed up watching cable TV in his living room, so when Dean joined Cas for the night, his friend was already asleep. There was, however, a piece of his special cake on the nightstand next to Dean’s bed. It was still cold from the fridge.

There was no fork.


	17. Summer 1994, Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> More creepy sexual predator vibes from Crowley  
> Homophobic Language/Internalized homophobia  
> Other warnings are already tagged

The next day was the day of Cas’s actual birthday. His mom woke him up with some stupid birthday song just before six in the morning. When Cas threw his pillow at her, she reminded him that he had woken her up this early fifteen years before. It took the smell of waffles to draw him out of bed.

Hannah greeted her brother with a patented body slam, and Gabe was manning the waffle iron. Even Dean’s mom and Tessa had joined them at this ungodly hour. 

“How come everyone’s awake?” Dean asked.

“Tradition,” Gabe explained. “But I have to be up at this hour anyway. I traded shifts at the restaurant to free up Friday night for the family dinner, so I’m running prep until 11:00 a.m., then line cook for brunch, and starting dinner at 4:00 p.m.”

“Jesus, Gabe,” Cas yawned. “Not that my birthday cake wasn’t worth it, but how are you going to survive?”

“Coffee,” Gabe shrugged and took a gulp from a mug filled with the brew.

The waffles were worth the early hour, topped with fresh whipped cream and strawberries. Cas was sleepy and uncoordinated and ended up with a dollop of whipped cream on his nose. Dean swiped it with his finger and licked it off.

This earned Dean another angry glare from his girlfriend. Everyone else acted like it was no big thing. Were they so accustomed to Dean crossing the friendship line with Cas that they didn’t even question it?

They finished their waffles, and Cas, Dean, and Hannah all trudged back to bed to sleep for another five or six hours. Cas’s birthday party was in the afternoon, so there were still hours to go before any work had to be done. Tessa declared herself wide awake and helped Mrs. Novak clean up the breakfast dishes while Gabe got ready for work. 

When Dean woke up naturally around 10:00 a.m., Cas was still fast asleep. Dean being Dean, he started to tickle his friend awake. They hadn’t had a tickle fight in years, and Cas—and Dean—had been considerably smaller then. There was power behind Cas’s flailing and they ended up on the floor, wrestling. Cas got the upper hand and rolled on top of Dean, and, suddenly, it didn’t feel like wrestling anymore.

Cas was the first to pull away, and he jumped back and hit the dresser, making his TV rattle. Dean didn’t glance down to see if Cas was in the same state as he was. He couldn’t bear either possibility, really, so it was best not to know. He kept his own crotch hidden with his arms until the problem passed; pajama pants didn’t hide much.

“I should go see my girlfriend,” Dean said lamely.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to go take a shower,” Cas replied.

Cas grabbed his things and left for the bathroom, so Dean pulled on the day before’s clothes and headed for his apartment.

He found Tessa on the sofa, watching TV.

“Have you been up all this time?” Dean asked her.

“I took a nap about an hour ago. But seriously—girls can’t just pull on a pair of swim trunks and go to a pool party like guys can. There are preparations.”

“Okay, yeah, I don’t want to know.”

“Chicken.”

Dean grabbed some clean underwear, shorts, and a T-shirt from his dresser. As he was pulling out a new pair of socks, he came across the small group of presents still wrapped in the brown paper bag they’d been bought in back in Lawrence. He grabbed them and tossed them into his bag along with his swim trunks.

The next few hours were spent getting ready for the party: filling water balloons, frosting cupcakes, gathering extra towels, seasoning ground beef per Gabe’s instructions and forming it into patties to barbeque later, packing sodas, ice, and the perishables into a cooler, and loading it all into the two cars they had access to. Charlie met them at the pool in her dad’s car—with her dad in the passenger seat—the trunk full of decorations and pool toys. They threw streamers on fences and hung balloons from lamp poles; by the time they were done it looked like a clown had thrown up.

The girls had their swimsuits on under their clothes, so it was no big deal for them to go into the women’s locker room to change. None of the other male guests had arrived, so it was just Dean and Cas doing a full change right there in front of each other. Why hadn’t they just put on their swim trunks at home like sane people?! 

“You okay?” Cas asked, frowning. He plopped his bag, which was embroidered with his name and his school, on the damp bench and stripped off his shirt with little ceremony. 

Dean could actually hear his brain buzzing at the reveal of all that tanned, toned skin. “Yeah,” he managed to say. “It’s a hot one today.”

“Well, it is _my_ birthday,” Cas joked. “Let’s get in the pool.”

“What?—you want to skinny dip?” His own shorts were around his ankles and Cas was—Dean dared a careful glance behind him—completely naked. Dean caught a look between his legs. It wasn’t long enough of a glance to make out any details, but it was enough to completely fry Dean’s brain. He really needed to stop obsessing about his best friend’s junk. Especially when his girlfriend was probably outside in a bikini. 

“Are you going to get dressed?” Cas asked. His junk was safely hidden away by a pair of loose, dark blue trunks, but the same could not be said of Dean. He was still standing with his pants pooled at his feet. 

“Where’s your speedo?” Dean quipped, as he quickly pulled on his swim trunks.

“You wish.”

By the time they’d stored their clothes in lockers and headed back to the pool, several guests had already arrived. Dean recognized Bart and Gilda, and there were a few people he only knew from the baseball game. Some of them had presents, probably because their parents had made them, but they were really past the age for gift-giving. Dean, of course, had the small pile of presents in his bag, but that didn’t count—they were best friends.

Cas cannonballed into the pool while the new guests went to change. He beckoned Dean in but ducked to avoid the splashes when Dean beat his cannonball. They got in a splash fight that was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Novak and her boyfriend with the rest of the food and the stuff for the barbeque. Crowley was still so desperate to win Cas’s approval, he was going to cook the burgers and hot dogs. 

“Doesn’t that look cool and refreshing on this warm day,” he said as he eyed the boys in the pool.

Cas rolled his eyes next to Dean, staring up at the sky in annoyance. Crowley was such a creepy jerk; Dean didn’t understand what Mrs. Novak saw in him. He distracted Cas with a big splash in his direction and started the splash fight up again. Several of their friends joined in the pool, and the fight only stopped when the girls who were sunbathing, including Tessa, complained about getting splashed.

“Wanna race?” Dean suggested to Cas in the light of his girlfriend’s complaints.

“Are you interested in losing?” Cas smirked.

Dean was ready to bluster, but Cas really could beat all of them without even trying. “Uh, good point,” he conceded.

“Let’s play Octopus tag instead,” Cas suggested. He raised his voice and shouted, ”Octopus Tag in the pool, in the pool if you want to play and out of the pool if you don’t!”

Several people joined in—some new arrivals, Charlie, and Hannah and the two friends she’d been allowed to invite—and one or two left the pool to browse the chip selection, grab a drink from a cooler, or lay claim to one of the loungers. Dean was declared it on Cas’s request; as they argued about it, Dean pointed out that when Cas inevitably won the game, he’d be it next. Therefore, Cas was the first person Dean tagged. They joined their hands and continued trying to tag the rest of their friends.

“ _Dude_ ,” Dean exclaimed unhappily as Charlie dodged his hand a third time. They couldn’t catch anyone. The fastest kid in Kansas at his side, and even Hannah could escape his clutches. They continued circling the swimming pool until Dean realized he and Cas were holding hands. With all their friends evading tags, they were just swimming around the pool like they had the skating rink the year before, and everyone could see—even Tessa. Dean dropped Cas’s hand suddenly. “Uh, I’m getting sick,” he said.

“From?” Cas frowned.

“From swimming in circles,” Dean explained. “I’m gonna get a pop.”

He climbed out of the swimming pool, but Cas followed and grabbed a towel. He dried off his arms and chest, while Dean watched, dripping onto the concrete like a wet idiot. How could everyone just go about their business while Castiel Novak was rubbing a towel over his bare, tanned skin? 

Once he was able to look away from the view, Dean grabbed a towel of his own and sat at the foot of the lounger his girlfriend was sitting in.

“You looked like you were having fun in the pool,” she remarked.

“Yeah, until everyone else became greased pigs.”

“ _That_ was hilarious.”

Dean frowned at her in response. “Are you gonna get in the pool? Or is that bikini just for sunbathing?”

Tessa wiggled her shoulders, showing off how her bikini top accentuated her boobs. It was hot. “Maybe.”

“Wait—maybe _which_?”

She smiled coyly and shoved him off her lounger. He went obligingly and let her continue making fast friends with some of the popular girls who had come to gawk at Cas.

As Dean was pulling an ice cold pop out of the cooler, Charlie popped up behind him. “Hey, stranger,” she smiled. “You two were so funny at Octopus tag.”

“Shut, up, Charlie,” he growled.

She narrowed her eyes in concentration. “Yup, we got one over on the two of you,” she finally said. “What’s a party without pranking the birthday boy?”

“Heh, yeah.”

Things were less awkward after that. People came in and out of the pool—never Tessa, though—and they played water balloons. Dean got a direct hit on Tessa, still in her lounger, when he pretended to miss Daniel. Eventually, it all devolved into chaos as everyone simultaneously aimed for Cas and pelted him with water balloons. He retaliated, and soon there was no one safe; Tessa, Mrs. Novak, even Crowley ended up drenched and angry. Cas, however, was beaming in the light of everyone’s attention. Dean wanted to hug him. He wanted to stand right beside his best friend in the world and let everyone know he was Dean’s. He wanted to whisper that into Cas’s ear while all his guests wanted him, only Dean…

It was best for everyone involved if Dean’s mind would stop going there.

Once Crowley had dried off his seasonally inappropriate black suit, he lit the fire for the barbeque. He called Cas to his side to be his assistant, which was lame because Cas should be allowed to have fun with his friends at his birthday party, not bond with his mom’s boyfriend. Dean followed; if he couldn’t save his friend, at least he could suffer with him.

“I have another present for you, Castiel,” he heard Crowley say as he approached them.

“I don’t need—“ Castiel argued. “You’ve given me a lot, already.”

“Nonsense,” Crowley said. “You deserve nice things.”

“Give me a job to do,” Dean interrupted, offering his services. He turned to Cas. “Hey, buddy,” he said warmly.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas returned with the same warmth.

Cas and Dean split hamburger buns and brushed them with melted garlic butter (a Gabe tip) before placing them on the cooler side of the grill. Once they were toasted golden brown, Dean and Cas arranged them on a tray ready for the burgers and hot dogs. People started lining up, drawn in by the delicious smells emanating from the grill. Cas and Dean passed out the finished food to their friends, then took a burger each and moved to the table for side dishes and toppings. 

“What were you and Crowley talking about?” Dean asked, as they sat down on the same lounger, plates on their laps.

“Somehow he still thinks I’m the answer to winning mother’s heart, or something. He gave me a few birthday gifts on Friday—nice ones—and he has another one he wants to give me.”

“Crazy,” Dean answered, his mouth full of Gabe’s famous potato salad.

“Yeah,” Cas agreed.

“So, did he give you the new cologne?”

“What?” Cas frowned.

“Last night. You smelled fucking awesome, man.”

“Oh, I—yeah.” Cas stared at him curiously, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

“I mean, it was nice. You should lend me some,” Dean blustered, his cheeks reddening as well. “Uh, Hester seemed to like it.”

“Yes, I suppose she did,” Cas said with a smug smile.

Dean nudged him with his shoulder and went back to eating his burger. Crowley had burned the patties a little, so the outside was charred, but it was still the best burger he’d ever eaten. 

“Gabe really should open a restaurant,” he mused. After all, it was Gabe’s recipe that provided the flavor.

“I think that’s his plan. Eventually, I mean,” Cas answered with his mouth full. “These burgers make me happy.”

Mrs. Novak actually made them all wait a half an hour after eating before they got back into the pool. Once the ban was lifted, Dean coaxed his girlfriend to join him in the pool. They decided to play chicken. Tessa climbed onto Dean’s shoulders. Cas chose Charlie to be his partner, which caused Hester to sulk until Bart came to her rescue.

There were six couples playing, so they divided into two teams of three couples each. Each pair would face off with one from the opposite team, with a point going to the winner of each match up. The first two opposing couples were Ed vs. his best friend Harry. The girls, who were going to be doing the bulk of the work, were Rebecca and Hael. They were ruthless, too, but Hael soon prevailed and a point went to Cas’s team. The second match-up was Zeke and Gilda versus Bart and Hester. Hester’s anger at Cas propelled her into a decisive victory, and a point went to Dean’s own team.

Of course everyone thought it was hilarious that Dean and his girlfriend were up against his two best friends. It being Cas’s birthday, everyone was rooting for him and Charlie.

“You are going down, girlfriend,” Charlie trash-talked.

“It’s Tessa, _Red_ ,” Tessa replied with a sneer.

Dean caught Cas’s eye and winked as they advanced. Tessa grabbed Charlie by the arms and tried to wrench her off Cas’s shoulders. Charlie grabbed Tessa’s elbows, the only part she could reach, and twisted, both to free herself and to win the upper hand. The girls’ wrestling brought Dean and Cas nearly face to face, but Dean spared no moment in admiring Cas’s bright blue eyes, long eyelashes, or his straight, perfect nose. There was a game to win, and Dean only shouted encouragements to Tessa above him while he maneuvered in the water to give her a better angle.

Charlie gained the upper hand, and Dean could feel Tessa slip. He only held her upright by one leg, but, even as he struggled to hang on, it was Charlie who fell in the water with a splash. Tessa slid off Dean’s back, allowing him to see the scene in front of him clearly.

“I’m sorry, Charlie,” Cas mumbled, his face obscured by Charlie in the way. 

Charlie shook her head with a frown, and appeared to be examining his face. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.” She turned around and pushed past Dean. “You did that on purpose!”

Dean whirled around to follow as Charlie rounded on Tessa.

“No, I didn’t!” Tessa said.

Charlie advanced towards her, and, once she had moved, Dean finally got a good look at Cas’s face. His lower lip was puffy and a red-purple bruise was starting to form along his jaw.

“Did Tessa kick you?” Dean asked, finally putting the pieces together.

“Yeah, but—“

Dean didn’t let Cas finish his sentence but grabbed his arm and tugged him towards the ladder. “Dude, you need to get ice on that.”

Tessa approached them as Dean was holding a bag of the ice from the cooler against Cas’s face. Cas tried to push him off with a mumbled “I can do it myself,” as he watched her approach.

“Why’d you kick my best friend?” Dean asked.

Tessa rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t aiming for pretty boy’s face. I was trying to kick Charlie. I was trying to win—which I did.”

“By cheating,” Dean countered. “You ruined Cas’s birthday.”

“My birthday’s not ruined,” Cas said, taking the ice away from his face so he could speak clearly.

Charlie joined them, hands on her hips and a towel draped around her shoulders. “That was low,” she said.

“Is everyone in Tulsa a drama queen?” Tessa asked. “I came over here to apologize.”

“Thank you,” Cas said, and he sounded like he meant it.

“Okay,” Tessa shrugged, and she left them to taking care of Cas.

Once she’d left, Dean said, “You don’t have to do that.”

“She’s your girlfriend, Dean. I’m not going to make your life miserable simply because I don’t like her.”

“I knew you didn’t like her,” Charlie said shrewdly. “I think the feeling might be mutual.”

“She’s been really cool—up until now.” Dean said, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Gee, I wonder why,” Charlie smirked. 

Cas narrowed his eyes at her, melting ice still pressed to the lower half of his face. Dean looked from one friend to the other, trying to decipher the unspoken conversation. Finally, Charlie broke the silence by leaving to get Cas more ice for his lip.

“I guess I’m not getting any birthday kisses,” Cas said.

“I think that ship already sailed for Hester, man,” Dean reminded him. Hester had holed herself up in a corner with her friends. They were probably talking about what a jerk Cas was.

“It’s not like Hester and I are going out,” Cas replied solemnly.

“Of course not—why settle when every girl wants you?”

“I like girls,” Cas said. Dean barely heard him, as he was suddenly aware of how close they were. He’d leaned forward to examine Cas’s injury and had forgotten to move. “But I like—“

“Castiel,” Crowley exclaimed as he butted into their private conversation. “I heard you were injured.”

“I’m fine,” Cas said. “I’m just a little swollen.”

“Who did this to you?” Crowley growled.

“It was an accident,” Cas replied. Then, more pointedly, to Dean, who frowned at the dismissal, “ _It was an accident_.”

“I can have my doctor take a look at you,” Crowley offered. “He’s very good.”

“No, thanks,” Dean said. “I think he just needs ice and maybe an Advil.” Charlie approached with the new ice. “And here it is,” Dean finished, subtly pushing Crowley out so that Charlie could press the new ice to Cas’s face.

Crowley took the hint and backed off, but not before offering his extra birthday present once more with the agreement that Cas didn’t tell Mrs. Novak.

The party wound down after they downed the cupcakes. No one had any enthusiasm for them since the birthday boy got injured. One by one, they all drifted off, leaving the Novaks, Dean, Tessa, and Charlie to clean up. It was starting to get dark, but they didn’t light the tiki torches they’d planned for when the party was going to last longer. Charlie gathered them all up to put in the trunk of the car to take back to her house where her parents used them for barbeques and Polynesian themed cocktail parties. Dean felt a twinge of disappointment that things had wound down so early. When Tessa and Cas had both been at the party, Dean hadn’t had to choose between the two. Now they were all upset. Cas tried to be okay, but Dean could tell he was pretending to like Tessa for Dean’s sake. Tessa was haughty and self-righteous, acting like she was the victim instead of part of the problem. Charlie was staying the night—on Dean’s mom’s couch, of course—and she hadn’t forgiven Tessa yet for the accident. Everyone was tense and uneasy, with Dean right smack in the middle.

Crowley’s final gift to Cas was the answer to all their problems—no wonder he hadn’t wanted Cas to say anything to his mother. It was a very nice bottle of scotch, the kind they didn’t sell at the liquor stores Dean’s dad shopped at. Why Crowley would waste nice liquor on a fifteen-year-old, Dean wasn’t going to question, mostly because Cas, being a middle child, was very good at sharing. It was Charlie’s idea to set up the tiki torches on the roof of the apartment building. She and Dean started to set it up while Cas took a shower and iced his bad lip.

“What kind of food goes with expensive whiskey?” she mused as they raided the party leftovers.

“Beats me,” Dean shrugged. “Gabe’d probably know, but he’s at work.”

They settled on leftover chips, cupcakes, potato salad, and grabbed a stick of butter and a package of saltines from the cupboard just to be safe. 

Charlie escaped from the Novak kitchen just as Cas came out of his room, redressed in a pair of jeans and wearing Charlie’s gift—a T-shirt with a howling wolf on it. Tessa was still up on the roof, finishing hanging the Christmas lights they’d pulled from Dean’s mom’s storage unit, and Dean worried about letting the girls work on things without him for referee. However, Cas’s swelling had gone down, his hair was wet from his shower, and his nose and cheeks were tinged with sunburn. He was beautiful—so beautiful that Dean wanted to forget about his girlfriend upstairs and drink the whiskey alone with Cas.

“Where is everyone?” Cas asked.

“Roof,” Dean smirked. “You should come up and see what we did.”

The roof had been transformed into a wonderland. The tiki torches were lit, Christmas lights were strung along the wall that also protected them from the wind and prying eyes. For anyone to see them, they’d also have to be on the roof of one of the nearby buildings, so they were safe. Charlie and Tessa had sweet talked one of the college students who lived on the third floor to borrow their bean bags and floor pillows, and they were spread in a small circle within the tiki torches. Dean had stashed his duffel bag with Cas’s presents inside behind the bean bags where no one would notice it. At the center, there was all the food Charlie and Dean had pilfered and, of course, the bottle of alcohol and solo cups to drink it from.

“Whoa,” Cas breathed.

“Welcome to ‘Your Birthday Party, Part Deux: The Not-Safe-for-Parents Version,’” Charlie said in a fake announcer voice.

Cas and Dean plopped down on a pair of bean bag chairs, and Charlie handed them each a cup of booze. It burned as Dean drank it.

Charlie grimaced around the buttered cracker she was eating. “I added Coke to mine.”

“I’m good,” Dean coughed. He wasn’t about to ruin good stuff like that. He’d handled cheap vodka and crappy beer, so he could handle anything. Still, he grabbed a handful of chips to go with it.

They started chatting, the whiskey making conversation easy. Cas and Dean recalled their adventure the previous summer while camping. Charlie had heard the story, of course, but Dean had never told Tessa. Listening to Cas tell it, even though Dean had been there, was engrossing; it was as if Dean was experiencing it all over again from Cas’s point of view. It wasn’t so much his words, as how he told the story, and Dean suddenly realized that all these people drawn to Cas weren’t just drooling over him because of his big blue eyes, his high cheekbones and full lips—fuller that day—or his great hair. Cas drew people to him because of something innate within him, something beautiful and fascinating—something special. 

And no one was more drawn in than Dean.

“Drinking game!” Charlie announced once storytime was over.

“We don’t have enough people for anything fun,” Tessa said. Nevertheless, she poured herself and Dean another cup of whiskey. Dean made her take a plate of potato salad, too. The bottle was over half gone, and Tessa had made a good percentage of that disappear, despite being the smallest person there. She hadn’t been diluting it with pop like Charlie was either.

“We have enough people for Never Have I Ever,” Charlie countered.

“Okay,” Tessa shrugged. “Never have I ever…kissed a girl.”

Dean and Cas each drank, of course. Charlie didn’t, just crossed her arms in front of her defensively. Dean didn’t think she appreciated her game idea being taken over by Tessa.

Dean’s turn was next, however. “Uh, never have I ever…been in another country.”

Only Charlie drank that time. 

“Never have I ever been to third base,” Cas said in his gravelly deadpan.

Dean smirked and took a long gulp of his drink. Tessa glared at him as she did, too.

“Never have I ever kissed a boy,” Charlie said when it was her turn.

“Wait, really?” Tessa asked as she took a drink. Dean did not. The brief touch of lips while camping the year before definitely did not count. Cas clearly agreed because he didn’t drink either.

“Yeah,” Charlie replied aggressively. 

“Wow. You should get Castiel to fix that _right now_ ,” Tessa countered.

“Been there,” Charlie said. “Didn’t do that.”

“Come on,” Tessa urged. She waved her drink around, sloshing the expensive liquid onto the remains of the chips and crackers. “Cas is hot.”

“He’s also injured,” Dean reminded her.

“Just makes those thick lips more kissable,” Tessa replied. 

Dean turned to Cas to apologize, but Cas was focused entirely on Charlie. She was shaking, perhaps with the effort to hold herself together.

Then she broke. “I totally get it, you little twit. You have Dean wrapped around your little finger at school. And then— _oops_ —you get here and there’s Cas and there’s me and there’s his mom and you’re not number one anymore. _Boo hoo hoo._ You can’t order him around and make him what you want him to be anymore. I don’t buy for a second that you accidentally kicked Cas in the face. You hate him; you hate him because Dean is always going to love him more than he’s ever going to love you.”

“Uh, Charlie,” Dean began. 

“Don’t try and defend her,” Charlie barked. “You are way too good for her, and you know it.”

“Okay,” Tessa replied calmly. She was swaying slightly as she stood up from the cushy pillow she’d been sitting on. “I’m going to go to bed. I’d been hoping we could fool around before I left—like you haven’t obviously told your friends all about it,” she said at Dean’s narrow-eyed glare. “But that’s not going to happen. Goodnight all.”

“You should follow her,” Cas prompted when the access door slammed shut and her footsteps down the stairs echoed into the night.

“I don’t think I want to,” Dean said.

Charlie smirked and poured him another cup of whiskey. “Then I think it’s your turn.”

“Uh, yeah,” he stammered. “Never have I ever turned down pie.”

“Not even bad pie?” Cas asked.

“There’s no such thing as bad pie. Now, drink…or don’t, if you want to stay friends.”

Charlie had proper respect for pie and didn’t drink, but Cas pointedly took a sip from his cup. He tried to keep a straight face, but cracked up and nearly choked on the whiskey.

Once he’d recovered, he went on with his turn. “Never have I ever been grounded by my father.”

Both Dean and Charlie drank. When wasn’t Dean grounded by his dad?

They went around a few more times, but they all knew each other so well that it had devolved into bizarrely specific anecdotes in an attempt to cause someone else to drink. Dean had in fact never dived into a lake to rescue a boy from drowning, but that wasn’t why he said it. Just as Cas was not a girl with red hair and a great love for Star Wars, and Charlie didn’t live during the school year in Kansas with her brother Sam. 

“Never have I ever sat on a roof on my birthday with my two best friends and a bottle of Scotch my mother’s boyfriend gave me as a birthday present,” Dean managed to say through his laughter.

“You suck,” Cas deadpanned.

“You wish,” Dean countered, even though he was the one who had been thinking about that for weeks.

“Hey, guys,” Charlie interrupted uneasily. “I think I need to go to bed.”

“Yeah, sure,” Cas replied. “Do you need help downstairs?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” she dismissed. “But I do need Dean’s keys, since Tessa took the only one.”

“Uh,” Dean dug through his pockets. “They’re in my bag in Cas’s living room. I should come with you.”

Charlie dismissed him again. Cas took his own keys from his pocket and handed them to Charlie. “Please don’t forget to stick these under the welcome mat outside the door. I don’t want to wake up Gabe after his long day.”

Charlie Vulcan saluted and headed downstairs.

“Well, I guess your birthday took a few interesting turns,” Dean chuckled darkly.

“It hasn’t been my birthday for a few hours, Dean.”

“Still have time for another present, though.” Dean grabbed his gifts behind his bean bag where he’d stashed them. He grabbed the biggest of the three packages and handed it to Cas. “Open this one first.”

Cas obliged and tore the wrapping off sloppily; it was a book. “ _The Iliad_?”

“I know it’s dorky, but you’re dorky, and—“

“I love it. I can’t wait to read all about the ancient Greeks.” He cracked open the book. 

" _Rage—Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles,_  
_Murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses,_  
_Hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls,_  
_Great fighters’ souls, but made their bodies carrion,_  
_Feasts for the dogs and birds…._ " 

The way Cas read the lines, they resonated in the dark night, like they were sitting around a campfire in ancient times, and Cas was telling the story like one of the old poets. They came to life in that gruff baritone. “Cool,” Dean breathed.

“Yeah, cool,” Cas smiled. He went on to the next package, the smallest. He unwrapped a pocket knife with a deep blue handle.

“In case you ever need one again,” Dean explained. 

“Thanks,” Cas said, taking the last package and beginning to unwrap it.

“Uh, I hope you like this one,” Dean said. This was the present that mattered, and it was terrifying to watch Cas tipsily rip the newspaper off.

“It’s a cassette tape,” he said once the present was exposed.

“Yeah, I made it myself.”

“Oh, a mix tape—what’s on it?”

“Stuff that reminded me of you, stuff that I thought was cool,” Dean shrugged. 

Cas turned the tape over and over again in his hands. “Have you given Tessa a mix tape?”

“Have I given?!—no,” Dean huffed.

“Can we listen to it together?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas smiled. He poured them each another drink, and clinked the two plastic cups together. They each downed the contents immediately, the whiskey burning on the way down, so Dean poured them each another. They repeated the motions, and soon Dean had drained the last of the bottle into their cups, while Cas grabbed the last two cupcakes. He handed one to Dean, and began to remove the paper from the other. 

“This was a great birthday,” Cas slurred.

“You are such a bad liar,” Dean smirked and took a huge bite of cupcake.

“In that case, I really like your girlfriend.”

“Shut up,” Dean growled. He was drunk, and therefore operating without much common sense. It seemed like a good idea to smash the remains of his cupcake into Cas’s face. Cas had one brief moment of squinty-eyed confusion before he shoved his entire uneaten cupcake into Dean’s mouth, chin, and nose as well. Then—and this was where Dean realized how drunk Cas was, too—he started to lick the frosting off of Dean’s nose. Dean was far enough gone himself to nuzzle into the contact. Soft little kitten licks flicked across his nose, over his cheek, and made contact with his upper lip, and then it stopped any pretense of being about frosting. Dean hungrily let that tongue sweep into his open mouth. Cas whimpered at the contact and pressed forward. There was nothing tentative about it, nothing shy about the way their lips slipped against each other, nothing but desperation and desire fueling their actions. The alcohol that had facilitated this turn of events also erased any hesitation they might otherwise have felt. Dean sucked on Cas’s tongue and ran a hand through his messy hair. Cas’s fingers scratched at his scalp and pulled at his shoulders, like he couldn’t get close enough. It was so, so good.

Until, suddenly, it wasn’t. The combination of the alcohol, the junk food, and the excitement became too much, and Dean could feel the bile rising in his throat. At the last second, he pulled away, and blew chunks all over one of the borrowed bean bags. He felt hands on his back and shoulder, and, while they were the same hands that had just previously tugged on his hair, it was an entirely different sensation. Those hands wiped away his vomit, and helped him to stand. The hands must have extinguished the tiki torches and turned off the strings of lights since it became dark. The only light was from the moon and the street lights below them, as the hands guided him down the stairs. The hands found the keys where Charlie had left them under the mat and unlocked the door to Cas’s apartment. They steered Dean through the hallway and into Cas’s bedroom.

“Shit,” Cas’s voice exclaimed. He and his hands disappeared for a moment. When they returned, they wiped away the rest of the frosting and cake, then pressed something cold to Dean’s forehead and cheeks and put a glass to his lips, forcing him to drink. The water soothed his sour throat. “Hey, uh, Gabriel’s passed out in his bed, and Charlie’s on the couch. You’ll be fine here.”

The hands maneuvered Dean onto Cas’s bed, and helped Dean out of his soiled T-shirt and his shorts. It was extremely intimate, especially after what they’d been doing on the roof, and Dean tried to tell Cas so. “I’m a lady,” he mumbled. “No funny business.”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to sleep on the floor.”

“No,” Dean whined. He grabbed at one of the hands and pulled Cas towards him. They fell back onto the bed together. “Stay.”

“Okay.”

Despite the agreement, his warmth left the bed. Dean wanted to cry. He wanted to throw things. He possibly wanted to barf again. After an agonizing length of time, Cas’s beautiful hands and his glorious warmth returned to the bed as he lay down next to Dean. Dean curled into the comfort of Cas’s long, athletic body, and let sleep overtake him.

* * *

Dean did not want to get out of bed. He wanted to hold his eyes closed against the sudden bright light and snuggle back into the comfortable warmth he’d been enjoying. The warmth, however, had a different idea and leapt out of the bed. That was when Dean realized that he wasn’t alone in the room, and that the warmth had belonged to Cas and the shrill voice shouting belonged to Tessa.

“Oh my God, stop yelling,” he whined. “What’s the matter, Tess?”

“What’s the matter?! Is it supposed to be normal to find your boyfriend and his best friend wrapped around each other in bed?”

“Whoa,” Cas exclaimed. “We drank too much and Dean didn’t want to sleep alone. Gabe was in the other bed and Charlie was on the couch. We’ve known each other since we were eight, it’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.”

Dean didn’t remember any of that. He didn’t remember anything past Cas opening his birthday presents and then pouring them another drink. He tried to think of what happened after, but it made his head hurt, so he sat down.

“It’s cool, Cas.” Dean waved him away. “Can we have a minute?”

“Yeah,” Cas shrugged. Before he left, he placed a gentle hand on Dean’s still bare shoulder.

“Well, it seems you had an interesting night,” Tessa sneered once they were alone.

Dean grabbed his shorts from the floor, and stole one of Cas’s T-shirts when he couldn’t find his own. Feeling less exposed as he pulled them on, he said, “I drank too much.” A wave of nausea washed over him and he had to put his head between his knees. “Whatever this is—can we keep it quick? I have to barf or piss or something.”

“Okay, fine,” she barked. “Are you gay?”

“What?!?” Dean sputtered, his nausea forgotten.

“You know—gay. Rupaul, AIDS, and”—she waved her hand in an effeminate gesture.

“I’m not gay,” Dean responded. It wasn’t technically a lie.

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “You sure? You’ve got those eyelashes.”

“What do my eyelashes have to do with anything?”

“They’re feminine.”

“Seriously?” Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “You are so messed up if you’re calling my eyelashes gay.”

She shrugged. “Maybe it’s not so much your eyelashes as the fact that you bat them at your so-called _best buddy_. It’d be almost pathetic if it weren’t so gross.”

Dean’s worst nightmares were coming true. His nausea came back in full force, and he grabbed the waste basket so he didn’t blow chunks on the floor. “You’re wrong,” he croaked.

“God, I wish I were. Do you have any idea how much it sucks to feel like a third wheel in the great love story of Dean and his weird named friend?!”

“C’mon, Tess,” Dean argued. “I was just focused on his birthday. Don’t make a big deal out of this. I—“

“I’m not really comfortable dating you if I’m just going to be your beard,” she interrupted. 

“You’re not—“ Dean fought off his nausea and pushed himself off the bed. “You’re not my beard because _I’m not gay_.”

She laughed derisively. “Look, I get it. You’re in the closet. Doesn’t make you any less gay. I mean, you should see yourself when you look at him.”

“Shut up about Cas!” Dean yelled. “You don’t know him and you don’t know me!”

“I guess I don’t,” she barked. Dean had never seen her so cold. “I thought you were straight. God, I’m such an idiot! Wait ‘til my friends find out.”

Dean grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently. “Tess, you can’t tell anyone about this.”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to let them all think I was dumped or something.”

Dean was out of ideas. If she told the whole school she thought he was gay, his friends were going to hear about it, they’d tell their dads, and their dads would tell his dad. His dad would freak out, and Dean was already on thin ice at home as it was.

“I’m not fucking gay, Tess! It’s disgusting! It’s an abomination! I’d rather kiss a toilet in a public restroom than kiss a dude!”

Something caught Tessa’s attention, and Dean noticed Cas standing in the doorway.

“I, uh, needed pants,” he stammered as he entered the room. “Charlie and I were going to try and clean the roof up before anyone found it.”

Tessa laughed darkly. “Well, I’m going to go pack up and head home now. Don’t call me.” She flipped her hair and blew right past Cas.

“Tess, wait.” Dean ran after her and caught her in the doorway. “I…I really like you. You’re really hot and I want to be your boyfriend.”

“Too late,” she scoffed. As she left, Dean didn’t have any interest in following her again. His life was going to be over as soon as he stepped foot in Kansas. He slumped down onto the bed dejectedly.

“Well, I just got dumped,” he said to Cas.

“Condolences.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lines Cas reads from _The Illiad_ are from the Robert Fagles translation, Book one, lines 1-5.


	18. Summer 1994, Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait on this chapter, but I had to take a break from my (ir)regular posting schedule to post my very first DCBB, which you can find [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8155156/chapters/18688993), if you are interested.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> Miscommunication  
> Homophobic language

They didn’t talk about what Cas had overheard Dean say. Dean didn’t have the energy to explain things because he was too concerned with what Tessa was going to say to all his friends back at home. So, they got dressed and cleaned up the roof, hiding the empty liquor bottle in the college kids recycling bin when they returned the bean bags and stuff. There was a gross stain on one of the bean bags that Cas insisted on cleaning up himself. It looked like vomit, but Dean didn’t remember who threw up. So much was still foggy. He vaguely remembered promising Cas they’d listen to the mix tape, but nothing after that. 

Gabe came home from culinary school in the early afternoon. He’d brought some of the tarts and pastries they’d made in class as an apology for accidentally stealing back his bed.

“I am so sorry. I was beat after my triple shift in the restaurant, my bed was empty when I got home, and I totally forgot that I wasn’t supposed to sleep there. I really messed up. You two were so cute this morning all cuddled up in bed together, though. I should have taken a picture,” he rattled on. 

Dean didn’t really care. Tessa hadn’t broken up with him just because of the bed thing. Everything she had said was true, and she didn’t deserve a boyfriend who was in love with someone else. There was no use denying it anymore. It wasn’t just attraction, and it certainly wasn’t just friendship; Dean was in love with his best friend.

That best friend, however, seemed to have no interest in Dean. He blew both Dean and Charlie off to go for a run, claiming it would clear his head. How he managed to do so with what must have been an epic hangover, Dean would never know. They’d all drunk too much, of course, but were not about to admit it to any moms. Weak and hungover, Dean and Charlie grabbed milkshakes from the corner burger joint, and settled into the couch to watch geeky sci-fi shows on cable. 

Dean didn’t see Cas for three days after that, and Cas didn’t show up for their job at the bookstore either. He went over to the Novak apartment twice the first day and Mrs. Novak told him that Cas was out both times. Dean could hear the sounds of a familiar song drifting from the closed door of Cas’s room, but he didn’t press for information. By the third day, Dean had stopped trying to see him, and busied himself by going to the library and the movie theater by himself.

On the fourth day, Cas came over to Dean’s apartment like he hadn’t been avoiding Dean.

“Hey,” he shrugged as they stood awkwardly in the kitchen.

“Guess you’ve been pretty busy.” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Have you eaten lunch? We’ve got no food in the house and I’m starving.”

“You came over so I could feed you?” Dean asked. 

“No.” Cas stuck his hands in his back pockets. “I thought we could go get lunch together. I’ve been eating PB&Js for three days.”

“So you admit you’ve been ignoring me,” Dean growled. He instantly felt like a bully, however. Cas stared at him with his huge eyes even wider than usual.

“I thought you needed space after what happened with your girlfriend,” he responded meekly.

“Ex-girlfriend,” Dean corrected. “Yeah, but I reached out to you, man. I just got dumped; I needed dumb movies and junk food. I needed my best friend, and you abandoned me.”

“ _Jesus_. I’m sorry, okay?” Cas swept past the table, knocking a mug onto the floor. It shattered into pieces, and the remnants of Dean’s morning coffee seeped into the rug. They both crouched to the floor to pick up the pieces.

“So what gives?” Dean asked as he collected some of the larger chunks of ceramic.

“Careful,” Cas warned. “The edges are sharp.” He busied himself taking a damp paper towel to the coffee stain, keeping his focus entirely on the job at hand. “I thought you probably didn’t want to see me, even if you wouldn’t admit it.”

“Because I got dumped,” Dean finished. He dumped the broken pieces of the mug into the kitchen garbage bin, and got the broom from next to the fridge to sweep up the remaining shards.

“It was more about why she dumped you.”

Dean lost his grip on the broom and let it fall to the floor. Cas knew; he knew and was probably disgusted by Dean. “Oh shit—Cas, I—” 

Cas fixed him with an imploring stare. “We’re friends, Dean. I understand that, and I hope you do, too. Your friendship is more important to me than anything else; nothing will ever come between our friendship, I promise.”

Well, Dean was being let down easy, at least. It was more than what Dean deserved, since Cas would never have felt the same way. It wasn’t like Cas was saying that he couldn’t be friends with Dean anymore.

“Thanks, Cas, for…understanding,” he stammered out.

“That’s what best friends are for.” Cas smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, which still looked sad and wide like the child he was when they had first met. “Now, feed me before I try and eat you.” 

“Chili cheese dogs and lemonade?”

“This is why we are friends,” Cas grinned, this time lighting up his whole face. Dean tried his best not to react. He was strong enough to pine in silence; their friendship was worth it.

* * *

Everything was mostly normal for Dean and Cas after they hashed things out. They went back to spending most of their time together: shelving books at Marv’s, watching movies on Cas’s little TV, swapping books once one of them had finished, and just hanging out when there was nothing better to do. There were a few hiccups along the way, however. Cas adamantly refused to listen to the mix tape Dean had given him together like they’d planned. The copy of the Iliad sat on his nightstand, bookmark making its way through the pages, he had taken to carrying the pocket knife in his pocket like Dean did, but the mix tape was stuck in a drawer and Cas wouldn’t relent. Dean knew, of course, that Cas had listened to it by himself during those three lost days, but somehow it had gotten mixed up in everything that had gone wrong. It was a pity, too, because Dean had worked hard on it over many months. He’d recorded some songs from the radio and some from his dad’s record collection, holding the microphone of his tape recorder up to the speaker of the record player, and he was really proud of the result. There were some of his favorite songs, but mostly songs that reminded him of Cas and of their friendship. 

Cas also suggested Charlie hang out with them more often than usual, probably to keep Dean from trying anything. There was another time when he nearly had a panic attack when Dean tried to close the door to his room so they could hear _Batman_ over Hannah and her friends making noise in the living room. The door stayed open. Cas was also less cuddly. Normally, when they were watching a movie or TV, they just sprawled out, not caring where and how they touched. Dean figured Cas keeping his distance was another result of what Tessa had said. It sucked, but it was still a small price to pay to keep his best friend.

They started spending more time at Charlie’s house. She was the only one with a computer at home, and she’d gotten access to the world wide web. She was posting on message boards, and they went into chat rooms, where people all over the world were talking to each other. Charlie loved it, even if Dean thought it was lame after a few hours talking to someone about their pet chinchilla. Charlie’s house was safer, though, so Dean put up with it. Her mom worked at home, so there was always someone there to make Cas feel more at ease. 

It wasn’t until three weeks after everything went down that Dean realized how shaky things with Cas actually were. He was heading out to pick up the groceries his mom had asked him to get for dinner when he ran into Gabe coming home from morning classes.

“Hey, Dean-o,” he shouted down the hall.

He hadn’t seen Gabe since the day after Cas’s birthday. Gabe spent so much of his time in Culinary School or at the restaurant working, that he and Dean rarely crossed paths. 

“Hey, Gabe,” Dean grinned. “Feel like driving me to the store?”

Gabe shrugged. “Yeah, I could do that. Let me drop off my stuff.”

He disappeared into the Novak apartment and returned a few minutes later, changed into shorts and a T-shirt. They headed out to the bigger market where Dean would have a choice of groceries, instead of the smaller, closer one he’d have gone to if he’d walked.

“I heard about what happened from Cas,” Gabe said once they were on their way.

“Shit,” Dean exclaimed. “He told you about that?”

“Yeah, he was pretty upset about it.” Gabe turned the car onto the main street.

“Oh, he was upset?!” Dean coughed. “Fuck him.”

Gabe pulled the car into the parking lot, and quickly pulled into a space, the tires screeching with the effort. “No, fuck you, dude,” he countered. “You’re the asshole here, not Cas.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the one who got dumped, and I’m the one who’s gonna go back to school and get called a fag.”

“As long as you have your priorities in order,” Gabe snapped. He made no effort to get out of the car.

“Well, I like girls, so…” Dean countered.

“Big deal. Cas does, too.” 

“Yeah, I know. Believe me—I know.”

“Isn’t that nice?” Gabe said with a sarcastic sneer.

“You know what, Gabe, thanks for the ride, I’ll walk home or something.” Dean hopped out of the car and headed for the store. Gabe didn’t follow him, but when Dean finally turned around, another car was in the spot and Gabe’s car was long gone. He couldn’t focus on the grocery list, picking up stewed tomatoes instead of tomato sauce and having to go back and switch them. He was going to have to carry everything home on two different buses, and still walk six blocks. What he didn’t understand was why Cas had told lies to Gabe about what had happened. Dean hadn’t done anything wrong. Tessa was the one who freaked out about it. And Cas—well, if Cas couldn’t deal with realizing Dean had feelings for him, that was Cas’s problem. He didn’t have any right to be mad at Dean for anything. Sure, Dean didn’t exactly handle things with Tessa very well, but that still wasn’t Cas’s business. It’s not like Dean got mad at Cas for sleeping in the same bed as him because Tessa had discovered them in the morning.

Dean finished collecting the necessary groceries, and paid for them with the cash his mom had left him. He then began the walk to the bus stop. After a twenty-five-minute wait for the right bus, Dean found that he had misplaced his bus pass and had to pay for a pass with the rest of his cash instead. A transfer to a different bus followed, where a super sweaty old dude wanted to sit on the seat next to him, meaning Dean had to move his groceries to the floor at his feet. It wasn’t even like the bus was that full, the dude just wanted to piss Dean off. Once he was free from the hell of the Tulsa Transit system, it was a long walk in the heat and humidity back to his apartment. By the time he and his lukewarm groceries had arrived home, he was disgusting and sweaty and, after putting the groceries away, jumped into the shower.

Since he was alone in the apartment, Dean didn’t see any reason to get dressed in the bathroom, or even to wrap a towel around his waist. He could air dry while he walked across the apartment to his room. 

“Jesus. You’re naked!” 

Dean turned towards the voice, even though he would have recognized it anywhere.

“Cas, what the hell?!”

“Gabe told me he left you at the store. I wanted to check on you,” he stammered as he continued to stare. “Could you please put on some clothes?”

“Dude, you could turn around,” Dean responded pointedly. He could feel his cheeks—both sets, actually—redden in embarrassment.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He complied and faced the TV instead of the show Dean was giving him. “Gabe’s just being an older brother. You’d probably do the same for Sam.”

“Yeah,” Dean conceded. He continued on to his room, grabbed some clean clothes from his dresser, and pulled on a pair of underwear and some jean shorts. “You can turn around now.”

Cas crossed to the doorway of Dean’s room where he leaned against the doorjamb. “His opinion on the situation is not mine. I’m cool with everything.”

Dean pulled on a T-shirt, too, then sat on his bed to put on a pair of socks.

“Then your brother should back off, dude.”

“He will.” Cas joined him on the bed, and that was as reassuring a thing as Dean could hope for. He wasn’t afraid anymore to be alone with Dean in an intimate setting, or, at least, if he was, he was now able to overcome it for the sake of their friendship.

Angel joined them in the bedroom, and stole one of Dean’s shoes. He wasn’t a dog, so he just played with the untied laces and batted the tongue and where the sole was starting to come away from the top. They watched him in silence until curiosity got the better of Dean.

“Why’d you tell him?”

“I needed to talk to _someone_ , Dean. And it’s not like I could just talk to you about…you.”

“I guess,” Dean shrugged. “I’m just kinda embarrassed about the whole thing.”

“I know, but I’m not judging you. You’re my best friend and nothing is changing that.”

“That’s good. That’s really good.” Dean grabbed one of his dirty socks from where he’d thrown it and tossed it at the cat. The cat’s reflexes weren’t what they once were, but he pounced on it nonetheless. “You wanna go to the dollar theater tonight? They’re still playing _The Crow_ , and they just added _Speed_.”

“I can’t,” Cas grimaced. “Crowley is taking us out for a special ‘family’ dinner. I have to shower and change before 6:00.”

“I’ll make sure to catch that,” Dean quipped. When Cas glared at him, he shrugged and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Uh, seriously, _Batman: The Animated Series_ will be on in like fifteen minutes. You wanna hang out until you hafta go?”

“I don’t want to watch a cartoon, Dean.”

“Sure you do. You love cartoons. I love Batman. It’s a match made in heaven.”

“Yeah, okay,” Cas agreed. “Hannah’s hogging the bathroom anyway. She’s getting mother to help her put on makeup.”

Dean laughed darkly. “What happened to her whole _makeup is for girly girls_ thing?”

“She’s thirteen. Today she is a girly girl, I guess.”

“Tomorrow she’ll probably be body slamming me again.”

“Probably.” Cas said as Dean followed him back into the living room. “But you’ll probably deserve it.”

Dean stuck his tongue out to Cas’s back, but, really, it felt great to act like everything was normal.

* * *

Somewhere around nine o’clock that night, Cas walked right into Dean’s bedroom, past Dean’s mom, who was paying bills at the kitchen table, and Dean, who was finishing washing the dishes from dinner, and collapsed on Dean’s bed. Dean’s mom glanced up at him curiously, but Dean could only shrug in response.

“Hey, buddy, you okay in there?” he shouted.

“Please, let me die in peace,” Cas moaned dramatically, the sound muffled by the bedding around him.

“Uh, can’t you die in your own bed?” Dean removed his soapy gloves and set them next to the sink. He walked over to his room, where he confirmed Cas was face down on his bed. “What’s up?”

“My life is over,” Cas groaned. “Everything is gone. Existence has no meaning.”

“Okay,” Dean scolded. “Nothing is that bad.”

“My mother,” Cas began as he rolled over to face Dean. “…is getting married.”

“Oh, shit,” Dean replied. “Uh, continue dying then.”

“Thank you,” Cas said. He rolled again and buried his face in Dean’s pillow. Even through his concern, Dean felt a thrill at the possibility that it would smell like Cas when he slept on it later. He shoved down the thought and sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing Cas’s back soothingly. “Do you ever wish we were kids again?” Cas mumbled into the pillow. “Everything was easy and straightforward and simple.”

“All the fucking time.”

“You shouldn’t fucking swear, Dean.” He rolled completely over so he was lying on his back. Dean took that as a hint, and lay down next to him. 

“There are worse stepfathers you could have, dude,” Dean reminded him. “At least Crowley gave you that whiskey we got wasted on for your birthday.”

“Can we please not talk about that?” Cas asked. 

“Right,” Dean replied, admonished. “He gave you that sweet cologne, which you are totally lending me, by the way. And he bought us dinner and gave us champagne. He’s cool.”

“His name isn’t even really Crowley. It’s Fergus. Fergus MacLeod. He just goes by Crowley.”

“Only having one name is cool,” Dean remarked. “Like Madonna, Sting, Bono…Fabio.”

“You are a very disturbing person,” Cas said darkly. “We’re going to be moving, you know.”

“Wait, what?”

They both awkwardly maneuvered themselves so they were leaning up and facing each other. It put Cas’s face in kissing distance, but Dean had other things on his mind.

“When they get married,” Cas shrugged. “We’ll all be moving into his huge house.”

“But you’ve always lived next door!” Dean was nearly in tears.

“The wedding’s next year.” 

“Well, next year is going to suck,” Dean lamented. He slumped back onto the bed and pulled Cas down to join him. “We can die together now. Like Romeo and…uh…Mercutio?” He thought that was a good save.

“Suicide pact. Great idea.” Cas said, his voice tinged in sarcasm.

“What? You’re the only one who can be dramatic?” Dean teased and poked Cas in the side for emphasis.

“You’ll be sixteen next year, and you’ll be able to drive,” Cas reminded him. “I promise, Dean, we’ll always be best friends, no matter how far away we are. Also, I do not live next door, I live across the hall and one door down.”

“All right, you make a good point, smart alec.”

“At this time, I’d like to point out that we started out this conversation comforting me and have ended it comforting you,” Cas said.

“True,” Dean conceded. “Let’s kick Gabe out of your room and stay up all night watching movies.”

“Can’t. Now that they’re engaged, mother is spending the night at Crowley’s. Gabe has to be the responsible adult.” Cas turned to him with a grimace and they both shared a shudder at whatever Cas’s mom and her fiancé were getting up to.

Instead, Dean shouted through the open door of his room, “Mom, can Cas stay over tonight?”

His mother’s voice echoed through the small apartment. “Are you going to go to bed?”

“No,” Cas answered brightly.

“Is your mother going to get mad at me, Cas, dear?”

“Mother is away for the night.”

Dean’s mom had moved to the doorway, and she fixed Cas with a quizzical stare. “By all means, stay up all night. What’s the worst you’re going to do—get into an argument over _Star Wars_ vs. _Star Trek_?”

“One time, mom,” Dean lamented. “That happened one time.”

“And Charlie didn’t speak to you for a week,” Cas said, as he and Dean shared a secret smirk. Dean’s mom would have mistaken it for a laugh about Charlie, or smugness over Cas arguing the point that it was pointless to argue one over the other since one was a hero’s journey and the other was cowboys in space. Of course, what they were really communicating in silence was that the _worst things_ they had done had included underage drinking and, in Dean’s case, fooling around on the very bed he and Cas were lying on. And now Dean was thinking about fooling around with Cas. The last thing this conversation needed was Dean popping a boner in front of both his mom and Cas.

Cas grabbed a few things from the Novak’s apartment and told Gabe he was staying at Dean’s for the night, then they both changed into sweats and turned on cable. Two bags of microwave popcorn, a few reruns, and half of an awesomely bad B-Movie later, Cas was drooling on Dean’s shoulder, snoring softly. Dean took the opportunity to wrap his arms around his friend and held him until he fell asleep as well.

* * *

Dean and Cas were as inseparable as ever as the summer went on. Dean had, of course, learned to live with his feelings without letting them interfere with their friendship. Unrequited love sucked, but it was better to have a best friend than to have lost Cas trying to be more. Dean consoled himself with a copy of _Men’s Health_ he bought at the grocery store. He wasn’t brave enough to track down anything that couldn’t be passed off as an interest in increasing the size of his biceps. He had far more interest in other guy’s biceps, and the guy on the cover had that covered. It provided a welcome distraction from everything else.

They were hanging out with some of their friends after another baseball game the Saturday two weeks before Dean was set to go back to Kansas. They’d walked over to grab fast food chicken sandwiches, fries, and pops and ate them as a picnic in the park near where they’d played. 

Dean had finished his own fries, and had moved in on Cas’s leftovers. Cas batted his hand away halfheartedly, but Dean knew he’d win in the end. Cas was in training and that meant he was going to eat healthy compared to your average teenage boy, and definitely healthier compared to Dean, who was still certain green things were toxic. 

“Has anyone been watching _Real World_?” Bart asked.

“Don’t have cable,” Rachel shrugged.

“Why?” Cas asked shrewdly.

“My parents are cheap,” she explained, frowning.

“No, why does Bart want to know about _The Real World_?”

Bart didn’t have a chance to answer because Charlie, who did have cable, made her opinion on Puck known. “He’s an asshole,” she said.

Everyone else joined in with their opinion of the controversial cast member. Dean, who had caught every episode since that first with Cas, was grateful for the focus on him rather than Pedro.

Until Hester chimed in. “I really don’t like the gay guy.”

Dean tried not to take any of it personally, as his friends all shared their opinions of homosexuality and AIDS. He shouldn’t have been surprised by some of the negativity. They lived in Tulsa, Oklahoma, not San Francisco or New York, and their parents were probably saying the same things. Cas kept his mouth shut, though he also avoided looking at Dean the entire time. Dean could, at least, count Charlie, Bart, Gilda, Ed, Harry, and their friend Alan among the people who wouldn’t damn him to hell for being the way he was. Hester was to be avoided at all costs, as was her friend Hael. 

Of course, what they weren’t talking about while they argued the morality of homosexuality was that “the gay guy” had AIDS. Dean had a rudimentary understanding of what two guys did when they had sex. He knew what people joked about, but it wasn’t like it was included in their health classes. Since pretty much the only thing he knew for certain about it was that it could give you AIDS, he figured a little more education would be a good idea. It had to feel good if it was worth the risk, he figured, so maybe he was a little curious about gay sex. Or a lot curious. It’s not like there was anyone to talk to about it, or anyone to answer his questions. Maybe he should have just headed up to Turkey Mountain to see what it was like.

Dean was drawn out of his dirty thoughts by Cas’s voice, responding to someone’s obviously stupid comment that Dean hadn’t heard. “I don’t see what sexuality and masculinity have to do with each other,” he said.

“Yeah, says the guy who shaves his legs,” Daniel said.

“Once a year for a swim meet,” Cas countered.

“Wait, you shave your legs?” Dean asked. 

Cas fixed him with a dangerous stare, but it was Charlie who answered with a smirk. “Cas shaves everything.”

“Everything not covered by my speedo,” Cas added. His glare had softened into an embarrassed grimace. “Just for the big meet. Everyone on swim team does it.”

“That’s what it takes to place first in the state.”

This started a conversation about Cas’s chances at the national level. Bart, who was on swim team with Cas, thought that Cas could win at the national level if he got a good coach. Dean should have been impressed by his best friend’s swimming prowess, but his brain had short circuited. It wasn’t like he had opinions on body hair on guys (girls, on the other hand, he expected to be as smooth as possible, double standards and all), but the idea of Cas, razor in hand, making all that tanned, toned skin smooth was so hot that Dean was certain it’d fuel his shower sessions for a month.

Not long after the conversation finished, everyone started to drift away. None of them could drive yet, though some, like Charlie, had their learner’s permits. Those who lived close enough to walk, headed home on foot, while Dean and Cas made their way to the bus stop.

“I’m sorry if that was awkward,” Cas said as he sat down on the bench.

“No, it was just…weird.” Dean could see the bus at the nearest stop light. It’d pull up to their stop in a minute or two, and he knew Cas would drop the conversation once they were in public.

For now, however, he continued. “I’m glad you didn’t say anything.”

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Dean replied. “Cas, I…”

The bus pulled up to the stop, drowning out whatever he was going to say. It was a good thing, too, because he was probably going to say something sappy and desperate. They stepped on the bus, and Cas started talking about something else entirely.


	19. Summer 1994, Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's warnings are:
> 
> Creepy sexual predator Crowley and his attempts to groom his intended victim  
> Female nudity  
> Masturbation
> 
> I worked really hard to keep this chapter within the teen rating, but it does lean towards mature.

Dean only had a week left in the summer, but he tried not to let it ruin the last of his time with his mom and Cas. To keep him from sulking around the house, Dean and his mom spent a day together at the Gilcrease Museum. Sure, a museum filled with art and culture wasn’t exactly Dean’s first choice, but it was a chance to spend some real time with his mom.

Dean stopped to look at an exhibit, and his mom took the opportunity to be a parent. “Are you nervous about going back to school?”

“I guess,” Dean answered, in what was probably the biggest understatement of his life. “Most of my friends were Tessa’s friends, so I have to start all over.”

“You’re good at making friends, I’m sure you’ll find a lot of cool people you want to hang out with.”

If they didn’t all shun him because of what Tessa was going to tell them, or maybe already had told them over the summer. “There are a few guys on the baseball team who don’t suck,” Dean shrugged.

“I’m really proud of how well you took the breakup,” she said. 

“ _Mom_ ,” Dean whined. “It was no big deal. It was just…easier…having a girlfriend.”

She turned away from Dean and focused on an old carving that couldn’t have possibly been as interesting as she pretended it was.

“Because your dad gives you a hard time?” she finally asked, as they moved on to another room full of more old stuff.

Dean shrugged, and found his own exhibit to feign interest in. “I don’t want to talk about Dad.”

“Sure. But you should probably remember that I know exactly how difficult it can be to live with John Winchester.”

“Is that why you moved all the way to Tulsa?”

His mom nodded her head towards a bench set in front of a large painting. Dean followed her and sat next to her.

“Tulsa’s a much bigger city,” she explained. “I had a better chance to get a job and a place to live. When your dad and I broke up, I had no home, no money, no job, and only a high school education.”

“There are cities bigger than Lawrence in Kansas, Mom. You’d be a lot closer to us if you still lived in Kansas.”

“How do you feel about lunch?” she said. Dean frowned and shrugged, but she rustled his hair the way she did when he was little. “I promise, I’ll answer all your questions, honey. I just need some lunch, first.”

A half an hour later, they were seated at the Museum’s restaurant. Dean’s mom was digging into a club sandwich with gusto, while Dean picked at his burger and fries and watched her eat. Once her sandwich was half gone, and her iced tea refilled, she began to tell her story.

“I married your father when I was nineteen. I wanted to get out of my parents’ house, and I had no plans for college. John had just come home from Vietnam; he was a war hero. My father hated him, but I loved him. For the first few years of our marriage, everything was fantastic. We had a lot of fun. I mean, it was the seventies—we had parties, we were a bit wild. Nothing I expect you to emulate, by the way.” She gave him a stern look to emphasize her point. “When you came around, everything changed. I was no longer his wife; I was _the mother of his child_. Money was tight, and he worked all day, so when he was free, he wanted to drink and relax with his friends at the bar.”

“Mom,” Dean breathed. “Having me ruined your life.”

“No, no, sweetheart.” His mom placed a soft hand on his forearm. “Having you was the best part. Both your father and I loved you very much, just in different ways. I diapered your little bottom—“

“ _Mom_ ,” Dean said with a grimace.

“Sang to you, cuddled you, fed you, read to you. Oh, you were the most beautiful, sweet-natured baby. I could put you in your little bouncy chair and you’d just watch me do dishes or cook dinner. They were the best days. Your father, he worked to provide for you. You were his legacy; you were my cuddle bear.”

“Okay, okay.” Dean could feel his cheeks redden; he hoped no one else could hear the embarrassing nickname.

“I thought our marriage was fine. We had Sam and everything still seemed okay. Then, when he was about six months old, I took the two of you to visit my parents. I came home after the weekend, and there was a stranger in my house. John had been seeing the woman who is now your stepmother on the side and had finally decided to…replace me. He said I didn’t respect him; he thought I was going to teach you to be a pansy—that I coddled you and I was going to do the same to Sam. He said that boys needed structure and discipline to grow up to be men.”

Dean’s appetite managed to decrease even further; he had no interest in eating his burger. He felt sick to his stomach. 

“We had a terrible custody fight,” she continued. “Your dad made a lot of accusations about me. Some were true, some may have been true once, but most were bald-faced lies. He had people who would vouch for him, while my only friends were the wives of his coworkers and a few neighborhood women, none of whom would speak on my behalf. My parents were no help; you know how they are—your grandfather has fewer friends than Marv down the hall does. In the end, I lost custody. I went from a full-time mother to seeing my children once every two weeks in a supervised visit, and it was very difficult for me to be away from you. I’m not sure you’ll remember this, sweetie, but I started to come by your preschool.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. He did remember seeing his mom once, not long after she had gone away. She was parked across the street, and he’d run over to her car to see her. Kate was also there, with Sammy in the car seat, and everyone had started yelling. “Were you going to take me?” he frowned.

“No. I just wanted to see you and your brother if I was lucky, but that’s what they accused me of. It wasn’t the first time I’d watched you, and the school secretary admitted to seeing my car. I missed you so much, and I thought… It was stupid, and I lost even those few times I could legally see you. I knew I couldn’t stay away from you and your brother, so I went far enough away that I wouldn’t be tempted.

“It was lucky, too. I found low income housing, a day job in a factory and a night job cleaning at a community college. Two years later, I had saved enough to move into a real apartment, and was fortunate to find Naomi Novak two doors down. She had also been through a terrible divorce, and—I should probably not tell you these things. I’m not even sure Cas knows.”

“He won’t mind. It’s not like I tell Cas _everything_.”

“You don’t?”

“No. Mom, he’s my best friend, not my shrink.” Dean gave her a cynical look, even though what he meant was that he’d never actually told Cas that he’d like to hold his hand, and maybe kiss his neck, preferably while he wasn’t wearing a shirt and, possibly, pants. And underwear. No big deal.

“Okay, then,” his mom said. “Well, Naomi’s husband had walked out on them, and she had been trying to get child support from him for years—I think he may have moved to Europe to avoid it. Money is tight for the Novaks, as you probably know, and Naomi is far too proud to ask for help from her parents. Naomi had been in the courts more times than she could count, so she knew a good lawyer who was willing to help at a reasonable price. She’s the reason I have you back at all. And I think you’re kinda fond of her son.”

“Eh, he’s okay,” Dean joked, but he quickly turned serious. He had important things to say. “Mom, I wish that Dad had let you see us more. I hate him.”

“I didn’t tell you any of this to make you hate your father. Everything he’s done was because he thought it was the right thing to do. He really does love you.”

“I’d rather be here,” he replied.

“I’d rather you be here all the time, too,” his mom smiled sadly. “But I like to think maybe your summers with me helped you grow into the amazing young man you are today.”

* * *

“Move over, losers.”

“Gabriel,” Cas said imperiously, as he and Dean were shoved out of the way. “This is my television, bought with my money, and I will decide who sits in front.”

“You wouldn’t even know the movie was on if I hadn’t told you,” Gabe argued and settled in his prime seat closest to the TV.

“Oh, yes, how would we ever live without a sexy cyborg spy fighting Russian terrorists,” Cas deadpanned.

“I, for one,” Dean interjected, “could not live without sexy cyborgs.”

“Thank you,” Cas said in a sarcastic drone. “Any more comments from the peanut gallery?”

“No peanuts here, only popcorn,” Gabe offered and held up the bowl. Dean roared with laughter. He was going to miss so much more than just his mom and Cas when he went home in a week. His dad would never let him watch a cheesy movie, not when there was a football post-game on. 

“Hannah!” Cas shouted through the open door. “Do you want to watch the movie?”

“No,” she shouted back. “I’m going to watch a _Murphy Brown_ rerun.”

“Don’t let it convince you single mothers aren’t mocking the importance of fathers,” Cas replied, referring to Dan Quayle’s comments two years earlier.

“Dude,” Dean said, smacking him on the arm. “You were raised by a single mom.”

“Oh,” he shrugged. “Nevermind,” he called out to his sister. “Damage is already done.” He couldn’t hide his smirk as he turned back to Dean.

“Hey, the movie’s starting.”

The spy _was_ sexy and _also_ a cyborg, but the movie was pretty lame. The male lead was smarmy and bland, even though _he_ was also sexy, and the cyborg stuff could have been way cooler. They all lost interest an hour in and started throwing popcorn at each other in attempts to catch it with their mouths. They missed more often than they succeeded, so the room was a mess. Of course, that was when Mrs. Novak returned with her fiancé.

“Gabriel, may I speak to you?” She popped her head into the doorway and spoke seriously to her oldest son.

“Sure,” he said, shrugging.

The two disappeared into the kitchen, but Mrs. Novak’s place in the doorway was taken up by Crowley.

“Hello, Castiel. Castiel’s friend.”

“Dean,” Cas prompted.

“Dean, of course. I suppose your summer’s almost over. Back to Kentucky.”

“Kansas,” Cas corrected.

“Of course.” Crowley had one of those smiles that made it look like he’d just killed a man and liked it. “Well, Castiel, I had a thought. I was talking to a dear friend about you the other day.”

“About me?” Cas asked.

“Yes,” Crowley smiled that dangerous smile again. It made Dean feel uneasy. “I was saying my soon-to-be-stepson was quite the swimming star, and he told me that his friend Raphael Tobit was going to be at OU this week.”

“Who’s Raphael Tobit?” Dean asked.

“Castiel?” Crowley prompted, but Cas looked as confused as Dean.

“Beats me,” he shrugged.

“Raphael Tobit coached three swimmers at Barcelona.”

“Oh.” Cas’s eyes went wide and he was suddenly very interested in what Crowley had to say.

“My friend gave me Raphael’s number, and I called him. He is very interested in meeting you, maybe seeing what you can do.”

Cas erupted into uncharacteristic glee. “Oh my God! Thank you! Thank you!” He even hugged him, throwing his long arms around Crowley’s neck.

“Now, now,” Crowley protested, but he didn’t exactly pull away. He soaked up the attention, finally having earned Cas’s approval. “He’ll be expecting you on Thursday, around 7:00 am.”

“In the morning?” Cas’s glee faded. “Mother has to work, and Gabriel has his pastry finals this week.”

Dean could see the dejection in his friend’s whole body; his shoulders slumped, his head hung low, and his big, blue eyes grew shiny. Dean put a hand on his shoulder. Fuck Crowley, the asshole.

“Don’t worry. Being the boss has its perks. I’m Raphael’s contact, of course, I’d be happy to accompany you and provide transportation,” Crowley said enthusiastically. “We’ll make a day of it in Oklahoma City. I have some associates there; it’ll be loads of fun.”

“Uh,” Cas hesitated. “The whole day? Dean…”

Dean finished the thought for him. “I leave two days after. We were gonna hang out Thursday, so I can spend my last full day with my mom.”

“Can Dean come with us?” Cas perked up as he asked the question. He looked imploringly at Dean, who was helpless to do anything but grin and nod his head.

“Yes, of course,” Crowley grimaced. “You could use a cheerleader.”

Dean did not accidentally kick him in the shin as they left Cas’s room to talk the plan out with Mrs. Novak, who was, apparently, leaving Gabriel in charge of Cas and Hannah while she spent the night at Crowley’s house. Dean and Cas refrained from making gagging motions at each other as Crowley explained the situation to his fiancée; too much was riding on this trip to the University.

* * *

Thursday came quickly, especially since Cas insisted on going to bed early Wednesday night. To arrive at the University with enough time for Cas to change into his swimsuit and warm up, they had to leave at 3:00 am. Crowley had tried to convince them all to stay in a hotel in Oklahoma City instead, but Dean’s mom had objected, and, if Dean couldn’t go, Cas didn’t want to. The irony of their early rising was that Cas was not a morning person, and he frowned at Dean over a cup of coffee when Dean came over so Crowley could pick them up. Dean poured himself a cup and sat opposite his friend at the kitchen table.

“It’ll be worth it,” he reassured Cas.

“What if I’m not as good as I think I am?” Cas asked. He stared into the abyss of his coffee, which he took black.

“Don’t psych yourself out, man. Have you had breakfast?”

“I wouldn’t let mother make anything. I can’t keep anything down.”

“You gotta eat,” Dean said. He opened the fridge to see if there was anything good to cook, and found some leftover taco meat. He grabbed some chips and some grated cheese and made a plate of nachos, which he popped in the microwave. Once it beeped, he put it on the table between them.

“Nachos—for breakfast?” Cas squinted at Dean, in disapproval rather than because of the unreasonably early morning.

“It’s 2:30 in the morning, what else are we going to have.”

Dean nudged the plate closer to Cas, and, when that didn’t work, he took a chip himself, struggling with the mass of cheese that came with it, and made a show of how much he enjoyed it. Cas shrugged and pulled off a chip to pop it in his mouth, but the tiniest smile on his face showed he appreciated the gesture. They’d finished the last chip when Crowley knocked on the door. Mrs. Novak answered it in her pajamas. Dean could hear them chatting in the hall, but couldn’t make out their conversation. 

“Castiel!” Crowley said in a pleased voice, once he’d entered the kitchen. “Are you all ready to go?”

“Yes,” Cas answered. “I have my gear, and I shaved down last night.”

“Good,” Crowley nodded. “I’m going to give your mother a kiss goodbye.” He went to find Mrs. Novak where she was probably falling asleep on the sofa.

“You shaved?"

“Every swimmer shaves, Dean. It reduces drag and increases sensitivity.”

“That’s what she said,” Dean quipped. “Can I feel your leg?”

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas growled.

Dean backed off sheepishly, but Cas gave him a small reassuring smile and shook his head fondly. Crowley rejoined them, Cas grabbed his bag, and the three of them headed out to Crowley’s waiting car. He didn’t have the limo; instead, his driver was at the wheel of a gray BMW. After some awkward maneuvering, Cas and Dean took the backseat, leaving Crowley in front with his chauffeur. He had some lame classical music station on the radio, and Dean wished he had thought to bring his Walkman. He and Cas could have shared the headphones. Unfortunately, Crowley didn’t stop trying to engage Cas in conversation. He was laying it on so thick that Dean was practically choking on it. 

They arrived at the University of Oklahoma exactly on time. The famous coach they were going to meet was nowhere to be seen, but a pretty girl a few years older than Dean and Cas met them at the swimming pool like she was expecting them. She led Cas to the locker rooms to change, leaving Dean and Crowley to head to the stands together in awkward silence. 

It was up to Dean to make small talk. “Uh, so Crowley, what exactly do you do?”

“I’m in real estate,” Crowley answered disinterestedly.

“Right,” Dean drawled. “So you sell houses?”

“No.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “I buy land and develop it; I also have many rental properties.”

That was enough of that. Crowley was the most boring, annoying person Dean had ever met.

They had a few more minutes of waiting for Cas to come out. The outdoor pool was Olympic sized, and everything was really fancy, despite the school not even having a swim program anymore. A few other swimmers, who also looked like high school students, joined him around the pool, all dressed in warm ups. Cas was chatting with a few of them; he probably knew them from the State Championships.

“Are they competing?” Dean turned to Crowley.

“Raphael only takes on so many students. Only the best of the best; Castiel is lucky he deigned to come to Oklahoma.”

“Does Cas know this?” Dean asked angrily.

“Castiel knows this is how things work. Raphael isn’t interested in just speed or endurance. He only coaches real competitors.”

“Well, great.”

Cas stood by the blocks and removed his warm ups. Dean tried to force himself not to stare, but it was a lost cause. He hadn’t seen Cas in a speedo since they were eleven. It was an entirely different experience seeing him like this, a person who Dean has thought about kissing and touching, mostly naked just twenty feet away. He was beautiful, all smooth—hairless—skin and lean muscle, as he stretched and prepared before jumping into the water for a warm up swim. 

Dean glanced to his left, catching Crowley also staring at Cas with a greedy look on his face, like Cas’s success in swimming had some sort of reward for him. It was pretty gross to see, so Dean refocused his attention on the swimmers. A tall, serious black man had taken up a seat by the side of the pool, and was watching them with more focus than either Dean or Crowley. A few minutes later, Cas had finished warming up and was taking his place on the blocks once more. A whistle blew, and they were in the water.

First up was fifty-meter freestyle, one lap of the pool, which wasn’t Cas’s best event. He placed fourth, losing to the swimmers better at short distances. They moved up to one hundred meters, and he placed second, then two hundred meters, where he only just managed a first-place finish. The truth was that he’d probably already beaten most of them before, being best in the state and all. He had to muddle through his worst strokes, backstroke and breaststroke, but he still got third place for the two-hundred-meter breaststroke. Finally, he got to show off his best events, the one hundred meter and two-hundred-meter butterfly. He creamed the competition, pulling out two spectacularly fast wins. Dean had never felt more proud in his life, watching his best friend show off.

When the swimmers were done, Cas ran straight to Dean and pulled him into a wet hug. Dean let himself enjoy the feeling of Cas’s skin where it pressed against his bare arms and legs. He pulled away before he popped a boner; something which was threatening to happen the entire time. 

“You were amazing,” Dean gasped. He was more out of breath than Cas was.

“I should have done better in the fifty-meter freestyle. I just hope it was good enough.” 

Crowley had gone over to speak with the mysterious Raphael, who held Cas’s future in his hands. Dean and Cas watched them talk, but they were too far away to hear any of their conversation.

“You’re always good enough. If this loser can’t see that, then he’s the one who’s going to miss out on coaching an Olympic gold medalist.”

Cas pressed his forehead to Dean’s and sighed. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

“Oh,” Dean mumbled. He had thought for a second that Cas had meant—but that was silly. Cas meant like a best friend, a brother. Dean couldn’t answer, couldn’t say I love you, too, man like he should have. His words would have had an entirely different meaning, and he wasn’t going to lie about something so important. He loved Cas in every way, and he always would.

Cas pulled away suddenly, his eyes bright and terrified. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean—“

“I don’t want to go back to Kansas,” Dean interrupted. Cas stopped talking and looked at Dean curiously. “It’ll never be home.”

“So Dorothy was wrong?” Cas joked mildly.

“Dude,” Dean admonished him, but there was no heat behind it.

“I understand,” Cas said. His eyes were soft and dewy, and a gentle smile played on his lips. 

Before Dean said or did anything he would regret, he broke the spell. “Hey, you should probably get back into real clothes before you get a sunburn or something.”

“Okay, you’ll still be here when I get back?”

“Always,” Dean smiled.

* * *

Crowley didn’t tell them anything about his talk with Raphael. Apparently, Raphael needed to think about the prospects before making any decisions. They ate lunch at some swanky country club where all the waiters knew Crowley’s name and kept bringing them sweet teas and extra chocolate mints. Dean was starting to get jealous of Cas’s new stepdad-to-be; being rich was going to change Cas’s life.

They finished with lunch and visited a department store where, once again, people knew Crowley’s name. The salespeople brought him ties, and socks, silk shirts and new fall suits. Surprisingly, they also expected to dress Cas, as if Crowley had told them to. 

“I don’t need a suit,” Cas objected.

“Of course you do,” Crowley rebutted. He pointed, seemingly at random, at the things he wanted them to put on Cas and himself. “You’ll need suits to wear to dinner and events now that we’re going to be a family. You’ll look handsome in a suit.”

Cas rolled his eyes and glanced at Dean imploringly. Dean could only shrug. He had a suit back in Kansas. It was probably too short after his last growth spurt, and he only wore it to the Christmas formal with Tessa and to church on Easter, but that was part of becoming a man. Of course, the suit Cas was trying on blew Dean’s cheap suit out of the water. 

“Do you want anything?” Cas asked, as Dean was admiring a silk tie the color of Cas’s eyes.

“No, man, who do you think I am?” Dean laughed shakily and let go of the tie.

“I don’t want you to feel left out,” Cas said.

"He’s gonna be _your_ stepdad; he _should_ buy you nice things. Fuck knows you deserve it.” He put his hand on Cas’s shoulder, and Cas glanced down to look at it curiously.

They stood like that until Crowley interrupted and Dean removed his hand. Crowley was followed by three sales associates carrying his purchases. “Castiel, Dan, we’re done here,” he said, as he passed them and exited the store.

“Let’s go, _Dan_ ,” Castiel snickered. Dean shoved him on the way out.

The salespeople stowed the bags and boxes in the trunk of the Beemer, as the three of them climbed into the car. The driver waited until everything was properly stowed before pulling away.

“Well, boys, I have to make a business stop next,” Crowley announced.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to a square concrete building with a small awning in front and an unlit neon sign announcing—

“Live Nude Girls?!” Cas’s eyes lit up.

“Do you own this place?” Dean asked.

“The building,” Crowley said, as he knocked on the door. 

“Does my mother know?” Castiel asked. Crowley didn’t answer his question because a huge black man opened the door and squinted into the bright afternoon sun. He saw Castiel and Dean first.

“Oh, hell no,” he drawled. “Arcade is down the street, boys.”

“They’re with me, Tiny,” Crowley explained and the other man’s entire demeanor changed.

“Mr. Crowley,” he said with the kind of deference that you gave the boss, not just the landlord. Who the fuck was this Crowley, anyway? 

They were shown inside, and Crowley disappeared into the back. Tiny returned and showed Dean and Cas to the bar where a tall guy in jeans and a muscle shirt was wiping glasses.

There were no dancers on the stage, but a few were milling around in cutoff shorts and crop tops. Dean couldn’t help but watch their tanned legs and taut stomachs as they stretched and gossiped.

“Can I get you boys something?” the bartender asked. He was pretty hot, too, and Dean was suddenly grateful for the concept of bisexuality. He got to enjoy good looking people of both sexes, which was awesome. 

“Rum and Coke?” Dean asked.

“How about a Shirley Temple?” the bartender countered.

“Hey, we’re twenty-one,” Dean said. He was barely successful at keeping a straight face, but Cas was cool as a cucumber.

“Sure, and I’m Lola Falana,” the bartender quipped.

“I didn’t realize this was that sort of nudie bar,” Cas said in his deadpan, making Dean snicker.

“Hey, Donnie,” Tiny shouted from his spot by the door. “Give the boys whatever they want! They’re VIPs.”

“And our liquor license?”

“We’re not undercover cops, man,” Dean said. “We’re cool.”

Donnie the hot bartender shook his head in disbelief, but poured Dean a rum and Coke anyway. “And you?” He gave Cas the same sort of look most people gave him, like he was something special just because he was beautiful. It wasn’t like Dean disagreed or was jealous or anything, but they didn’t care about _Cas_. They only valued his good looks. They didn’t care about his weird sense of humor or the way he always knew the right thing to make Dean feel better. Most of the time, they didn’t even care that he was a champion swimmer. They saw a pretty face and they wanted his approval—or something darker that Dean didn’t even want to think about. He couldn’t be the only one with the hots for his gorgeous best friend.

They were drinking their drinks when a soft female voice came from very close behind them.

“Hey, boys,” she said. Dean turned around to take her in. She was a super hot brunette dressed in a pink satin robe. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”

“Anything,” Cas gasped, his mouth opened wide.

“Aw, you’re cute,” she laughed lightly. “I have to rehearse my new number, and I could use an audience.”

What was this? Had Crowley sent a stripper out to give them a show? Whatever it was, Dean and Cas gave her enthusiastic head nods. 

“I’m Shaylene,” she said, her voice low and sexy. “What are your names?”

“Uh,” Cas said like the stud he was.

“I’m Dean, and this is Cas, and we would love to watch you dance,” Dean said.

They followed her, drinks in hand, to the tables near the stage, where they sat. Dean angled himself so he could see both the stage and Cas’s reaction—he was weak, so sue him. Shaylene disappeared into the back, and a godawful techno beat like they played at school dances came over the sound system.

When she came out onto the stage, she wasn’t wearing the pink robe any more. She wasn’t wearing much at all, just a hot pink mini skirt and a bra top. She started gyrating to the beat around a pole that was set up in the middle of the stage.

Soon, she unzipped her skirt and tossed it to Donnie at the bar; he held it up to his nose for an obvious sniff, then tucked it under the bar. Dean quickly turned his attention back to Shaylene, who was now wearing only the bra top and a fucking g-string. When she turned around, Dean could see everything; it was amazing. He glanced over to Cas, who was slackjawed and drooling, his hands in his lap. God, Dean wanted him to move his hands away just as much as he wanted Shaylene to lose the bra top. 

Shaylene did remove her bra, exposing two perfect boobs that Dean wanted to stick his face between. This was so exciting, and Dean could feel his body’s response. He wanted to know if Cas was in the same state. He wanted to _see_ if Cas was in the same state. Cas still wouldn’t move his damn hands.

Then Dean noticed Cas’s hands _were_ moving. Holy fuck, was he touching himself? Could they do that here? Dean let his own hands drift to his lap. On stage, Shaylene continued her dance, but Dean was so high on endorphins and rum that he could hardly pay attention.

Suddenly the music stopped; instead of sashaying backstage, Shaylene stood there, still mostly naked. “What did you think?” she smirked.

Cas could only nod, his face white and his hands tightfisted in his lap. Dean grinned, but only nodded, too.

“Good,” she said, as another girl brought out her pink robe and she wrapped it around herself. “There’s a room over here you can take care of things.” She pointed to her left along the wall with the bar. “We use it for private dances, but it’s empty now.”

They both got up and rushed to the door; Dean could hear Shaylene laughing on the stage.

“Uh,” Cas stammered. “You go ahead.”

Dean refused to look down to see how affected Cas was. It wasn’t like this hadn’t happened before; they were teenage boys for God’s sake.

“We can…I mean…as long as we don’t look, it’s cool.”

“Yeah, okay,” Cas agreed, letting out an uneasy laugh. “As long as we don’t look.”

The seven minutes that followed were the best moments of Dean’s life. The sounds Cas made, the knowledge that he was getting off barely three feet from Dean, all of it heightened Dean’s own experience. Suddenly, his right hand was the greatest invention the world had ever known. It had taken every bit of his self-restraint to not call out Cas’s name when he was finishing; it had become second nature in his shower and late night sessions. When Cas grunted his turn, Dean felt a surge of envy. He wanted to be the one drawing those noises out of his friend, he wanted to be able to see. If only he’d dropped to his knees when they’d first entered the room, let Cas figure out exactly what Dean was interested in. Maybe he would have been curious enough himself to let Dean get away with it, despite not sharing Dean’s feelings. It wasn’t fair! You didn’t feel these things for someone who didn’t feel them back! People in movies and on TV never had this problem. Of course, all the people on TV were straight, and when they fell in love with their best friend they were always conveniently the opposite sex.

They cleaned up in the bathroom and never indicated to Crowley or anyone else what had happened. Their mothers would never know that Crowley had taken them to a strip club, drank at a bar, or that they’d watched a naked girl dance for them. Dean didn’t understand why Crowley would risk his relationship with his fiancée—who would _not_ support this behavior—in order to win the approval of her son.

And with more secrets than ever, summer ended.

* * *

Dean had amassed more stuff in the last three months than he could fit in his luggage. It hadn’t helped that he’d had a growth spurt, and all his long pants were too short, so he had to bring home his new jeans and his old jeans to pass on to Sam. He sat on top of his suitcase, trying to force the clothes and souvenirs into something he could fit in the trunk of his mom’s car. Cas was sitting on the floor sorting books.

“Have I read this one?” He held up a battered paperback.

“Yeah, twice, Cas. You can keep it if you want, though.”

Cas dropped it in one of his piles. “I’ll add it to the library.”

Finally, Dean got the suitcase to close, and Cas scrambled to latch it before it popped open again. 

“I hate leaving,” Dean sighed, sliding off the suitcase onto the foot of his bed.

“You’ll be back,” Cas smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t any happier than Dean that their time together was almost over.

“Always, man. We’ll be best friends forever.”

“Yes, Dean. And once you’re eighteen, your dad doesn’t get to decide where you live.” Cas returned to his book sorting, choosing which books Dean took back to his dad’s and which books joined the collection on his bookcases.

“We can be roommates,” Dean smiled. “And I can yell at you to get your stinky sweat socks off the bathroom floor.”

“And I can get mad at you for leaving the cap off the toothpaste.”

“Once! I did that once!”

“Once is enough when you’re covered in Fresh Mint,” Cas reminded him with a stern look. “You know, this means one of us will have to do the dishes.”

“I’ll wash, you dry?”

“Deal.” Angel the cat wandered in, twisting around the piles of books on the floor. He settled onto Cas’s lap and began to purr as Cas stroked his head. “Can we get a cat?”

“Dude, my allergies.”

“A guinea pig?”

“Deal.”

Dean let himself forget for a moment that they were talking about being platonic roommates, and let himself think of them spending their lives like that as a couple. They’d have Sammy, Gabe, and Hannah over for barbeques in the summer and settle down in a king size bed at the end of the day. Dean wouldn’t have to wonder about what sex with a guy was like—all Cas's sounds would belong to him. They’d never split up like each of their parents had. They knew each other better than anyone else ever could, and they wouldn’t argue about stupid things. There was security in the sense of home that would follow them throughout their lives, the sense of belonging that came from knowing someone as well as they did each other. If Dean only got to have that in his life platonically, then he sure as well was going to hold on to it with all he had, even as the truth of it broke his heart.

“Hey, Dean,” his mom stuck her head in the door. “Say your goodbyes, it’s time to go.”

“Sure, mom. I’m almost packed.”

She shook her head in disbelief at the piles of books all over the floor. “You have twenty minutes. Your father wants you home for dinner.”

“Thanks.” Dean gave her a smile that he hoped looked genuine. She was trying to be strong for him, but he knew that she didn’t want him to go any more than he did. Back at his dad’s, he always ran the risk of everything going wrong. He didn’t have the protection of a hot girlfriend to keep his dad off his case anymore, and his feelings for Cas had only grown deeper during the summer. There was still the threat looming over him that Tessa would tell their classmates that he was gay, which, while kinda true, still jeopardized everything. Tessa was a good person; Dean wouldn’t have liked her if she hadn’t been. She had just been angry when she made that threat because she thought she was being cheated on—not too far from the truth, really.

“Dean?” 

Dean looked up from his reverie to see Cas standing in front of him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, man. I just…don’t wanna go.”

“I know.” Cas placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I finished sorting the books.” He pointed at the largest of three piles. “That one’s going to my room. The other pile can stay here at your mom’s, and the smallest one is for you to take back with you. I can send any you want to switch out when your mom visits you.”

“Or maybe you can come and visit me again,” Dean suggested. “You can come with mom, or Gabe can drive you up.”

“Yeah, maybe I can. I’d like to come.” He pressed his forehead against Dean’s—Dean could feel his breath against his face. “I’m going to miss you so much. It won’t be the same around here without you.”

“Fuck yeah, man, I’m awesome.”

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas said sternly. God, his breath was so warm. “I’m sorry about the weirdness earlier this summer.”

“It’s no problem, Cas. We’re cool. We are _so_ cool.”

Cas laughed against Dean, his breath tickling Dean’s eyelashes. “Good. I’m glad you understand.”

Dean could feel the pull of Cas’s mouth again like he had the previous summer—it was dizzying, hypnotic—and Dean could hardly resist it. He had never wanted anything more in his life, but he knew Cas didn’t want it. Yet, even as he convinced himself not to, something needled in the back of his brain. He could almost imagine the feel of it, the taste of Cas’s mouth, the shape of his lips, the slide of his tongue against Dean’s. The sense of déjà vu was enough to pull him out of the moment, and he leaned back, separating himself from Cas.

“Well, I should go piss before I have to leave,” Dean said in the world’s most awkward segue.

“You do that,” Cas said, backing up to let Dean off his bed. “I’ll get those books in your bag for you to take.” They both looked towards the overstuffed suitcase on the bed, and the tension was broken as they both laughed. “I’ll find another bag, okay.”

“Good idea.” Dean passed Cas and crossed the apartment to the bathroom where he did his business. 

He splashed water on his face and glared at his reflection in the mirror. “Get a hold on yourself, for fuck’s sake. He’s your _friend_. You should be fucking grateful for that and move on.”

When he came back, Cas was stuffing the books into a black trash bag. “This will have to do,” he grinned.

“I am travelling in style.”

“You deserve only the best.”

Dean’s mom poked her head into the room again. “It’s that time. Sorry.”

They hauled all of Dean’s bags down the stairs, and crammed them into the trunk. The bag of books was placed carefully on the back seat, where they wouldn’t get bent.

“Okay, guess we’re going,” Dean shrugged. His mom was already sitting in the driver’s seat waiting for them to say their goodbyes.

“Call me when you get to your dad’s, okay?” Cas said.

“Sure. You’ll look after my mom?”

“I always do.” Cas smiled and wrapped his arms around Dean in a hug. It felt so good, that Dean melted into it.

“You’re my best friend in the world, Cas, and that’s enough,” he whispered into Cas’s ear.

“That’s enough,” Cas echoed. He placed a soft kiss on Dean’s cheek, and Dean suddenly felt like the luckiest person alive. It was only the briefest of touches, but his lips were so warm and soft that Dean was sure he could feel the spot still burning. He was so lucky to be loved by Cas, even though it wasn’t the way he wanted. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, fingers still touching the spot where Cas had kissed. “Bye, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie Dean, Cas, and Gabe are watching is _Running Delilah_ ; it starred Kim Cattrall and Billy Zane. I have never seen it, so any opinions of its quality should not be taken seriously. All information on the movie is based on this [review](http://www.the-unknown-movies.com/unknownmovies/reviews/rev626.html) or this [one](http://cybertronicmovies.blogspot.com/2011/01/running-delilah-cyborg-agent.html).


	20. November 7-15, 1994

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is a good time, especially since people were asking about it in the comments, to mention that this is Part 1 of a series. There will be at least 5 parts, of varying lengths, POVs, and ratings. Part 2 will be explicit (but not underage), 50,000+ words, and its first chapter will be posted at the same time as chapter 22 of this part.
> 
> **This chapter contains the sexual abuse of a minor. It does not include any depictions of the abuse, but it is talked about and described, though not graphically, after the fact.**  
>  It also contains homophobic language.

_Dear Cas,_

_Hey, man, I’m going old school here. You’ve got me kinda worried. I called and you weren’t there. One time, whatever, but three times? Charlie says you’re fine at school, but that you’re really busy with swimming. I had my mom go and see what was wrong and she said your mom said you were fine, so I guess it’s just me. I miss you and I’m scared. You’ve never blown me off before. If this is about the summer, I thought we were cool. If you have a girlfriend or something, that’s cool, too. I don’t care. I know I probably freaked you out before. I’m sorry. I don’t care that you don’t feel the same way for me that I do for you. I’d rather have a best friend than a boyfriend—god, that sounds so stupid—anyway. There, I said it. I said it and I can’t take it back because you’re probably reading this now, and we can stop pretending like my girlfriend didn’t dump me because I was in love with my best friend. I know I’m a freak, but I think it’s just the way I am._

_You’re still the best friend I’ve ever had. That will never change. I just don’t get why you’ve gone off the radar for more than a month. That’s not like you. So, what the fuck, man? You can call me or talk to my mom or something, you don’t have to write me a letter back, I just need to know you’re okay. Please, Cas. Tell me you’re okay. Tell me we’re okay._

_Love—and I really mean that,_  
_Dean_

Naomi Novak placed the letter down on the kitchen counter and took a steadying sip of tea. Castiel had thrown the letter away without reading it—the envelope had still been sealed when she had fished it out of the trash. It answered several questions she had wondered about, which was, of course, why she was reading private communication. One was that her son’s relationship with Dean had moved beyond friendship. Dean was under the impression that his feelings were not reciprocated, but Naomi had a different suspicion on her son’s feelings for his best friend. Secondly, Castiel’s bizarre behavior was being noticed by others close to him. 

Her beloved younger son was not behaving the way she had taught him to. He was talking back, spending all day in his room, skipping swim practice—when Fergus was spending so much money for that fancy coach—not eating properly, and she’d received two concerned notes from his teachers that his grades were slipping and that he was a behavioral problem in class.

She resealed the letter with glue, hid it in her purse where it would be safe, and put Castiel’s behavior out of her mind so that she could prepare dinner. She had a pound of ground beef thawing in the refrigerator, and she could mix it with macaroni and taco seasoning. Grabbing a can of corn from the cupboard and an onion from the basket on the counter, she focused on her task.

It was simmering away on the stove when a scurrying sound caught her attention. Castiel was standing in the kitchen doorway, watching her with those huge eyes of his.

“Mother, can I talk to you?” Castiel looked so small and young, like he was the little boy who clung to her leg on the bus so many years earlier. 

“Of course, Castiel. Sit down.”

He was so pale. He’d inherited his father’s olive skin and easy tan, but in the florescent light of her kitchen, his skin looked washed out and green. She poured him a glass of milk, and grabbed a few Oreos from her elder son’s forbidden stash of sweets, setting them on a plate in front of him.

Castiel made no move to eat them.

“I don’t…I don’t think you should marry Crowley.”

“Castiel, I’m ashamed of you for being selfish. Fergus can give this family a lot of things. You should be grateful.” Even as she said it, the words rang false. Castiel would never say something like that without reason. Out of all her children, Castiel had been the one most supportive of her new relationship, even though it had likely bothered him as much as it had his siblings. She had not been without misgivings herself. Fergus had grown distant since their engagement, uninterested in sex and uninterested in the same romantic gestures he had used to woo her. That was just how men were, though. They would always grow indifferent and leave. 

“ _Mother_.” Castiel’s voice had become pleading, and his eyes were wide and terrified. “I don’t think he’s the man you think he is. I think he…”

“You think he _what_ , Castiel?” Her maternal instincts were on alert, as if she knew what was coming. She could feel the sinking sensation in her stomach as he answered. 

_Her little boy._

* * *

“Should I confront Fergus?”

“No!” Mary exclaimed, setting down her coffee cup. “Do not give him a chance to explain. He doesn’t deserve a chance to explain. Do not give him any more power. Go to the police, and let them handle this. He hurt your boy. He hurt _our_ boy. You know I love Castiel like he was another son. He and Dean are like brothers.”

Naomi wondered for a brief second if she should tell Mary the contents of Dean’s letter, if she should tell her friend that her suspicions years earlier were true. It would be a double betrayal, however; those words hadn’t been meant for her eyes, and they weren’t meant for his mother’s either. If Dean wanted to confide in Mary, that was his choice. Naomi’s only priority was keeping her son safe.

“I always worried about Hannah, being a girl. I never thought anyone would do this to one of my boys. I thought Castiel was safe.”

Mary laid a comforting hand on Naomi’s arm. “You can’t blame yourself for this. You couldn’t have known what Fergus was.”

“But he touched my son!” Naomi sobbed. “The same hands he used to touch me, he used on my son!” Bile surged in her stomach and she had to rush to Mary’s bathroom and empty her stomach of the chili macaroni she had forced herself to eat after Castiel’s bombshell.

There was a glass of ice water on the table when she returned.

“What did Castiel say happened?”

“It’s hazy for him—there were probably drugs involved. He remembered falling asleep at Fergus’s, and waking up with the feeling that he’d missed something. He didn’t want to go back, and I made him! I made him go back and Fergus did it again! Who knows how many times he drugged my son and did who knows what to him? And I was clueless the whole time.”

“He’s a strong boy, he’ll get through this. We can help him through this. I’ll go with you to the police station in the morning.”

“Thank you, Mary.”

Mary’s warm hand upon her own was comforting.

“Should I call Dean? I think I could convince John to let him come down.”

The letter Dean had written to Castiel was still fresh in her mind. It would be a terrible idea to bring him into this debacle, even if they kept the details from him. Castiel hadn’t chose to confide in his friend before, and she doubted he would want to, now. If he had wanted to talk to Dean about this, he would have answered phone calls and read the letter. 

“No, I…” Naomi felt for Dean’s letter in her purse. After resealing with Hannah’s gluestick, it was as if it had never been opened. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I guess you’re right,” Mary sighed. She poured another cup of coffee and added sugar, stirring absentmindedly. “It might only complicate matters.”

“Dean sent this,” Naomi said, taking out the letter. “Castiel didn’t read it. He threw it away, and I thought it would be better to return it to you.” A lie, but an innocent one. Dean deserved at least the illusion of privacy.

“Thank you.” Mary examined the letter curiously, but, if she noticed Naomi’s repair job, she did not mention it. “I know Dean’s been worried about him.”

“I should get back,” Naomi said, finishing her ice water. “What would I do without a friend like you?”

“The feeling is mutual. I’ll drive you and Castiel to the police station in the morning, and we’ll fix this.”

* * *

“And what did he say then?”

Naomi and her son were seated at a table with a police detective and a recording device on the table. The detective was maybe ten years older than her, with shrewd gray eyes and sandy blond hair.

“He said that the only reason he was marrying my mother was so that he could have easy access to my sweet ass,” Castiel answered the detective.

“This was when?”

“Last week. Uh, Friday. He picked me up from swim practice around 7:00 and had his chauffeur get me dinner from that Barbeque place on 3rd Street. I ate in the limo, then he took me to his house to wait for my mother.”

“And this is where he attempted to touch you sexually?” The detective asked the question like it was something normal, and not an abomination. She spared a moment for all the others who were too young to have to answer it.

“Yes. And when I punched him in his stupid face”—the Detective spared a smirk at Castiel’s answer—“he told me that I already was his and was always going to be his because he was going to marry my mother.”

“What do you think he was referring to?” The detective asked.

" _Gee, I don’t know_. The roofies made it pretty hard to remember what he did.”

“Then how are you sure he did anything?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t tend to unzip my jeans while I’m sleeping. And I’m not a fucking kindergartener; I don’t even take afternoon naps.”

“I’m sorry?”

“He gave me Gatorade, I drank it, I passed out. You do the math, dumbass.”

“There’s no need to be hostile,” the Detective said.

“You’re right. I should be a complacent little fucker just like he liked. I mean, that’s why he drugged me, right?”

“You waited five days after this altercation before telling your mother. How long had this been going on by that point?”

“What are you trying to say?” Castiel pushed his chair back and stood up angrily. “Are you trying to say I liked it? That I asked for it?”

“Sit, down, Castiel. That’s not what he’s trying to suggest at all.” Naomi put a hand on his arm to soothe him, but he pushed it off.

“After the first time it happened, and I woke up drowsy and confused with my pants unzipped, I begged my mother not to make me go over there again. She told me I was ungrateful.”

The weight of guilt pressed heavy on Naomi’s shoulders. “I don’t have a car,” she explained. “My fiancé arranged for private swim coaching for Castiel, and offered to take him there and pick him up. I thought I was lucky that he showed an interest in my children. Their father left us when Castiel was very young, and he needed a father figure. I thought…”

“Mrs. Novak, perhaps it would be best if you waited outside. An advocate will be assigned to your son.”

“I’ll be outside if you need me, Castiel. The police will take good care of you.”

Her son wouldn’t even look at her, as a uniformed officer escorted her into the hallway where Mary Campbell was waiting.

“Are they done?”

Naomi shook her head. “They asked me to leave. It’s so much worse than I had imagined.”

“We just have to get through this part, and it will all get better.”

Naomi didn’t answer her friend because two officers entered, escorting the man she was going to marry.

“Naomi,” he cried. “What the hell is going on?”

Mary had to hold her back from attacking the man. The bruise where her son had already gone after him had turned purple and yellow. Crowley’s story when he had told her was that he’d outbid a hothead for a lucrative piece of land, and it had gotten physical. She had believed him.

“I know what you did to my son. Did you think you’d get away with it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fergus lied. Mary’s grip on Naomi’s arm tightened warningly, and Fergus noticed the gesture. “What’s wrong, darling? What do you think I did? You must know I would never hurt your son. Which son do you think I hurt?” He glanced towards the interview room’s glass windows, where Castiel was still being questioned by the detective. His manner changed instantly. “What did Castiel tell you?”

“That you touched him,” Mary supplied angrily.

“Oh no,” Fergus drawled. How could Naomi have ever thought she loved him? “Castiel is a very disturbed young man, Naomi. I didn’t want to alarm you, but I’ve noticed his irrational behavior for several weeks now—months, even.”

“Liar!” Mary interjected. Fergus was eerily calm in the face of her accusation.

“You’re that blond boy’s mother, right?” Fergus focused his attention on Mary, and it was like watching a spider catch sight of a fly. “Dan? Dave? Dennis?” Naomi felt Mary tense up next to her, but she didn’t back down and she didn’t let go. “Certainly you’ve seen how poor Castiel stares at him—poor desperate little faggot. It’s not uncommon for young boys unsure of their sexual identity to become obsessed with a handsome older man in an influential position. And it’s not uncommon for them to panic about their homosexual feelings and make up stories. I don’t blame Castiel; if he tells the truth, we can all go back to how things were.”

“More lies,” Mary said. Her presence at Naomi’s side gave Naomi the strength to ignore those lies. 

“It doesn’t matter what you say, Fergus,” Naomi said. “You’re going to go to jail for what you’ve done to him.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “No, I won’t. You have no proof, and Castiel doesn’t remember anything. If you push this, your whole family will regret it. I own this town, Naomi. I own you, and I own your children.”

* * *

They tried to get back to normal. Neither Gabriel nor Hannah knew what had happened to their brother—Castiel’s request—only knowing that Naomi had broken her engagement with Fergus. They made three more trips to the police station over the next week. On the third trip, a sad-eyed young assistant district attorney informed them that the case was not going any further. She said it lacked evidence, that the detective had been promoted to Lieutenant and no one would be taking over the case, and pointed out how embarrassing it was going to be for Castiel to get up on the stand and talk about what had happened to him. Castiel threw up in the bushes outside the police station, then kicked a garbage can over. Naomi didn’t even make him clean it up.

The next morning, Naomi was not the first one awake. Castiel and Hannah wouldn’t wake up for an hour, but Gabriel was already packing up his things to leave for his job as a prep cook in a local restaurant.

“I’ll try to bring home leftovers for dinner, Mother,” he promised.

She gave him a peck on the cheek. “Remember to hydrate.”

Gabriel shook his head fondly on his way out, and Naomi set about her morning routine. She had put a pot of coffee on to brew when there was a knock on the door. When she opened it, she found her neighbor, Marv, with a folded newspaper in one hand and a manila envelope in the other. 

“This was sitting on your welcome mat,” he said, handing her the envelope. “Saw it when I got the paper, and thought _hmm...that's weird_.”

“Thank you,” Naomi replied. The envelope was thick and heavy for its size. 

“Will Castiel be in to work today?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“I’m going to have to hire someone else if he doesn’t come in tomorrow,” Marv threatened and left. Naomi had never liked that man.

Naomi sat at the kitchen table with her coffee and opened the envelope. There was no name on it, no return address. Inside the envelope were pictures, hundreds of pictures of Hannah—Hannah at school, Hannah with her friends at the playground, Hannah at the mall with another girl from her class, and Hannah outside of her Girl Scout meeting. Naomi recognized the clothes Hannah had worn the previous day, as well as several other things she’d worn in the past week. The last had a large red X drawn over top of her.

Naomi let out a gasp, mind racing at the threat she’d just received. Had Fergus had Hannah followed? How was that possible? Naomi knew that Fergus was a powerful man. He had real estate holdings all over Oklahoma, but, if he had associates who would threaten a thirteen-year-old girl for him, that was a different level of power. 

Her hands dialed the phone before she was even aware of what she was doing.

“Hello, Naomi, darling,” Fergus drawled through the line. Just the sound of his voice made Naomi sick.

“What is this?” She shook the pile of photos she was still clutching as if Crowley could see them. “You’re threatening my daughter now, too?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Fergus lied. “Naomi, perhaps you’ve been through too much in the last week. Castiel’s mental troubles must be so hard on you.”

Anger seized her insides and she squeezed the phone’s receiver until her fingers turned white. “You may have fooled me once, Fergus, but I know what you are now.”

“Now, now, darling. I apologize. I do understand how you’re feeling. I felt the same way when I was humiliated by two police officers interrupting an extremely important meeting with an associate. Excuses had to be made, and a lucrative deal may have fallen through thanks to your son’s hysterics.”

“My son’s…?” Naomi muttered. This man was unbelievable. How had she ever loved him?

“Why don’t you and Castiel stop by the house today, and we’ll work this out as a family? So much better than getting the police involved. Less… _messy_.”

Naomi didn’t miss the implied threat. “You’ll never get anywhere near my children,” she swore. No one would ever hurt one of them again if it took everything Naomi had to keep them safe

“I had thought you’d be a bit more compromising this morning. Too bad.”

The phone went dead as Crowley hung up. Naomi raced to check on her sleeping children. Hannah was sound asleep, looking as if she knew nothing but safety, despite the evidence to the contrary still in Naomi’s hand. Castiel was also asleep, but his covers were mussed as if he’d tossed and turned most of the night. She would get her dear boy through this.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a noise at the front door. She rushed to the door in a panic, wishing she had some sort of weapon at her disposal.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—oh hello, mother,” Gabriel said, as he stormed back into the apartment.

“Shouldn’t you be at work already?” Naomi asked, her heart still racing.

“Someone broke the windows of my car. There’s broken glass all over the seats and the parking lot at work.”

“Did you see who did it?”

“Nah, I was setting up in the kitchen; Curtis saw the damage when he was getting in—late, again.” Gabriel moved past her to get plastic bags from the drawer. “I had to drive it home as is because my boss wouldn’t give me anything to clean it up. I probably have glass in my ass.”

“Was there a note?” Naomi asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Why would punk-ass kids leave a note?” Gabriel frowned. 

“No reason,” she croaked.

He must have noticed the strain in her voice or her ashen face because his manner changed completely. “Mother? What’s wrong?”

“I can handle it.”

“Fuck that! I’m an adult now, and you should treat me like one.”

Naomi gestured to her oldest son to join her at the kitchen table. “My engagement with Fergus—Crowley ended because he’s been…” She searched for a word that would adequately describe the situation without making herself sick. “…he’s been molesting your brother.”

“What? That’s not…I’ll kill him! I’ll fucking kill him!”

“Gabriel!” Naomi scolded. “Please keep your voice down. I would prefer Castiel not know I told you.”

Gabriel hung his head in his hands. For someone who was always joking and playing tricks, Gabriel was extremely overprotective of his younger siblings. “ _How could you let this happen?_ ”

“Don’t think I’m not asking myself the same thing,” Naomi said. She blamed herself, it was only natural that her son would blame her as well. “I was…mistaken about Fergus’s character.”

“Not you, mother.” Gabriel looked up at her, his eyes red, then raised them to the heavens. “ _Him_. How could God let this happen to Cas? Fuck him. Cas didn’t deserve this. I mean, no one deserves this, but _Cas_? He was gonna be president or cure cancer or at least win a gold medal. This is the kind of thing that can fuck you up for the rest of your life.”

“This will not destroy Castiel’s future! I will not let it.”

“He’s already messed up because of the stuff with Dean, Mother. I know he’s strong, but there’s only so much one kid can take.”

“Listen to me, Gabriel, Castiel will get through this. This family will get through this.” She passed the pile of photos to Gabriel; his eyes widened as he took in the threat on his little sister. “These were in front of the door in an envelope.”

Gabriel rifled through the photos. “God, I must have tripped over this shit. What’s his deal?”

“I believe this was an attempt to strong arm us into not pursuing the matter with the police any further. I believe I was mistaken about Fergus in more ways than one. I’ve destroyed this family.”

“What do we do?”

There were few options left to Naomi. If Fergus was as dangerous as she was beginning to realize, the only option was to get protection from her parents. It meant cutting ties with every aspect of their life in Oklahoma. 

“We go home.”

* * *

A knock at the door surprised Naomi from her packing. She had called her parents in Illinois, giving few details, and they were thrilled to welcome Naomi and her children back into the fold. Taking most of the kitchen things was pointless; she’d drop off a few boxes with Mary to pick through for her own use or to donate to those even less fortunate. There were, however, a few things from her married life with sentimental value that were worth taking, and Gabriel’s professional knives and such. She set down the newspapers she was using to wrap her wedding china and answered the door.

Castiel’s friend, Charlene, was at the door, her eyes rimmed red.

“Cas called. He said you guys were moving,” she sobbed, as Naomi moved aside to let her in the apartment. “Look, Mrs. Novak, if it’s a money thing—my parents can help out.”

“It’s not a money thing, Charlene.”

“Charlie,” the girl said through her tears.

“Charlie,” Naomi said, though using a boy’s name for such a pretty girl felt strange on her tongue. “Castiel and Gabriel are packing their things in their bedroom if you would like to join them.”

The upset teenager nodded solemnly and left Naomi to her packing. The rest of the kitchen went quickly, and soon Naomi had two boxes to take over to Mary’s and three to pack in the truck they had rented, including an entire box of just Gabriel’s fancy knives. 

Naomi’s own clothes and belongings could wait; she did not relish going through the reminders of another disappointing man. Dresses worn on dates to the theater and nice restaurants, jewelry gifted on her birthday, photos, and keepsakes—she didn’t want any of them. She wanted to pretend that Fergus had never existed, that she had never been desperate enough to fall for his lies.

Hannah was also in the midst of packing when Naomi entered their shared room. 

“You’re not taking your Cabbage Patch Kid? I waited in line three days for her.”

“I’m not a little kid anymore,” Hannah shrugged, her recently shorn hair bobbing from the movement. “You said only to pack important things.”

“I meant not to pack jeans you’d outgrown and broken cassette tapes and that horrible Mousetrap game that’s missing half the parts. Things that matter should come with us.”

“I don’t understand why we have to leave anyway. I have friends in Girl Scouts, and I’m going to miss our Christmas Penny Drive next week.”

“Hannah, there are some things that are more important than what we want.”

Hannah let out a great sigh. “At least you aren’t marrying _Crowley_ anymore. He gave me the creeps.”

Apprehension seized in Naomi’s stomach. “Hannah, Crowley never…”

“Crowley never paid me any attention, mother,” Hannah finished. Whether she understood the question or not, she had answered it, and Naomi’s heart lifted. “I don’t even think he knew my name. Now, Cas, on the other hand.” She seemed to laugh at a joke only she knew. “Who isn’t obsessed with Cas, though, right? You should hear the girls at school ask about him— _your brother’s so cute_. And, of course, Dean Campbell.”

“That’s enough, Hannah,” Naomi scolded. It wasn’t right for Hannah to gossip like that, even if it was true. Dean’s crush on Castiel was no one’s business but his own. She felt better having returned the letter to Mary, where it could not hurt anyone—especially not Castiel. Naomi left her daughter to her packing to check on him.

“I don’t want them,” he was saying—yelling actually.

“They’re your books, Cas. You love your books,” Charlie countered, her voice wavering.

“I said I don’t want them. I’ll take my TV, instead.”

“Castiel,” Naomi chimed in. “Take some of your books, at least. There is enough room to take both a box of books and your television set. Things will get better eventually, and you will miss them.”

“Fine,” Castiel barked, and began tossing books onto his bed. “I don’t want that one, or that one.” He paused when he picked one up. It was one of those silly adventure books; he searched for its fellows and held the three together. Curiously, only two made the cut, and the third was tossed in with the rejects. Naomi wasn’t familiar with them well enough to know which one he was leaving behind, but she could tell Charlie was confused as well, so it must have been an unusual decision. 

Gabriel began to box up the ones they were leaving behind, but Castiel stopped him and grabbed the book from the pile. He flipped through it for a minute, then took a pen and wrote something in it before adding it to the box.

“These are for Dean,” he said. “Do you want any?” He turned to Charlie, and, in his wide eyes and small smile, Naomi could see a spark of the Castiel they all knew. He would get through this. Before Charlie could answer, Castiel dug through the pile of what he was going to keep and handed one of the books to his friend.

“ _The Fellowship of the Ring_?” Charlie asked as she took the book from him, her eyes as wide as Castiel’s were.

“One for each of us.”

“We’ll get them back together soon, right? They _are_ a trilogy—like _Star Wars, Indiana Jones_ …us.”

Castiel threw his arms around her, almost knocking the book out of her hands. It was so hard for Naomi to watch. Castiel had already lost so much, and now he had to run away from all his friends as well. He may have known why they had to leave, but that wasn’t going to make it any easier.

Charlie left not long after that; she had school tomorrow after all. Eventually, they finished their packing and carried the boxes and the little furniture they were keeping into the truck they’d rented and parked downstairs.

Soon, all that was left in the apartment was the sofa, beds, the kitchen table, and the seven boxes they were taking to Mary Campbell’s. It took two trips to take them all over to Mary’s and stack them in her living room.

Mary’s cat entwined itself around Castiel’s ankles, meowing for attention. Once Castiel’s arms were empty of boxes, he petted the cat fondly, whispering to it. 

“You can take what you want,” Naomi apologized. “There’s a very nice casserole dish—the one we have macaroni and cheese in on Thanksgiving.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Mary smiled sadly. “I’ll take the rest over to the church.”

“Not that one,” Castiel interjected, pointing at the box of books. “It’s for Dean,” he finished, quietly.

“I’ll make sure he gets it. I can bring it to him next week. I’m spending Thanksgiving weekend in Lawrence.”

“No, it should stay here. It’s just books; they belong here.”

“Cas, sweetheart,” Mary said, holding Castiel close and kissing his cheek. “Promise me you will call Dean and talk to him as soon as you’re settled.”

“I…can’t,” Castiel gasped.

“Shhh,” Mary soothed. “You don’t have to talk about anything you can’t talk about yet. Just tell him you’re okay. Just tell him you are going to be okay.”

“I can’t; he’s going to be so disappointed—he’s going to think I left him.”

“No, no, no. He’s not going to think that. He’ll understand that sometimes people move away, and it won’t affect your friendship. I’ll call him for you first thing in the morning and explain you had to move, but I won’t say anything else. Anything Dean knows after that you will tell him, okay?”

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please don't hate me! I promise, as bad as things seem now (and that will continue), it will eventually get better for poor Cas and Dean. I love Castiel so much, I hate having to hurt him!


	21. November 16, 1994

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter except feels.

Dean cracked open a pop; he needed the caffeine, but his dad wouldn’t let him have coffee because it would stunt his growth, whatever that meant. Dean wasn’t sleeping well, but he had a test third period. His dad was going to let him drive the Impala, since he’d just gotten his permit.

“Ew, gross, Dean.”

“What?”

“Pop with pancakes?”

“I’ll pop your pancakes.”

Sam shook his head disbelievingly and continued eating his breakfast. Dean drank the rest of his pop down in one long chug, washing down the undercooked mess of a pancake. He had school to get to, and he was actually looking forward to it, even his test. His breakup with Tessa could have been the end of his social life, but all the people who had thought he was cool because he had a hot girlfriend still thought he was cool for some reason. She had tried to spread the rumor that he was gay, but it had fizzled out. Nobody believed it because Dean didn’t look or act like their expectation of a gay guy. Sure, there were a few days of jokes from the guys on the baseball team, and he got a few stares, but from some guys—like Aaron Bass, who played first base—the stares were curious not disgusted. Dean was pretty curious, too, as long as it never got back to his dad. He was going to have to get over Cas eventually, and maybe exploring his bisexuality wasn’t a bad idea. As if on cue, as soon as Dean started thinking about Cas, the phone rang.

Dean couldn’t decide if he wanted it to be Cas or dreaded it being Cas. He should have read Dean’s letter by then—if they were even still friends—and Dean had laid out all his feelings like the idiot he was.

“I’ll get it,” he said, making to dash for the phone in the hall.

“Dean, I need you to watch the pancakes,” his stepmom commanded. “Adam spilled syrup all down his front.” The four-year-old looked up, smiling a gummy smile at Dean, his face and shirt smeared with maple syrup. The phone rang a third time, and Sam picked it up from the kitchen wall.

Dean frowned but turned to the stove and flipped the stupid pancake. If the call was for him, Cas would just tell Sam and Dean would get the phone anyway.

“Hi, mom,” Sam said into the receiver. “Yeah, he’s right here.” He held up the phone, and turned to Dean. “Mom wants to talk to you.”

Sam took over making their dad’s pancakes, and Dean took the call out in the hall, being careful to go back and hang up the receiver in the kitchen so Sam couldn’t eavesdrop.

“Hey, mom!” Dean said with more enthusiasm than he actually felt.

“Hi, Dean, honey.” Dean could hear the tension in her voice.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She paused, and Dean could hear through the phone connection the tension in her breathing. “I called to tell you that the Novaks had to move away.”

“What? Like into that Crowley dude’s big house or something?”

Another pause. “No. Mrs. Novak’s not marrying Crowley anymore. They left Oklahoma.”

The bottom fell out of Dean’s stomach. “Where are they going?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is this why Cas stopped calling? Because he was leaving?”

“No. It was a very sudden decision, and they left last night,” his mom said. She was trying so hard to give the news nicely, but Dean wanted an excuse to yell. He wanted to be angry, but his mom sounded so sad for him it hurt even more.

“Why? Did Cas get my letter? Are they leaving because of—“

“ _No!_ I have your letter. Mrs. Novak gave it to me, and Cas never read it.”

“Don’t read it, mom,” Dean pleaded. 

“No one’s read it and no one’s reading it,” his mom said calmly. “I’ll put it in your room, where it will be safe.”

Dean wanted to ask her to burn it, but that would just draw more attention to the damn thing.

“Mom, is Cas okay? He hasn’t talked to me in a couple months, and now they just up and leave—it’s weird.”

“Cas is okay. He promised me he’d call you as soon as they’re settled, and tell you that himself.” Dean wanted to believe that, but he could hear the crack in his mom’s voice as if she were holding back tears. 

He knew his mom wouldn’t lie to him.

Suddenly, he didn’t want to go to school anymore; he didn’t want to go anywhere. This was his punishment for dodging the bullet when Tessa had tried to out him. This was his punishment for messing things up so badly over the summer that Cas didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

“ _Mom_ ,” he gasped, as the tears started to fall and his knees gave out.

“Shhh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” His mom soothed him through the phone, but her voice was distant like the connection was revealing the miles between them. 

Sam found him twenty minutes later, curled in the fetal position, sobbing and clutching the phone, his mom’s voice still coming through, telling him it was going to be okay.

It was not going to be okay.


	22. April 6, 1995

**_Five Months Later, Lawrence, Kansas_ **

Dean was not okay. 

Every part of him hurt, and his eyes didn’t seem to work anymore. The car was blurry around the edges and his head was pounding. His dad stirred next to him in the driver’s seat, releasing a pained groan.

Things hadn’t been going well for Dean since Cas disappeared last Fall, but this was a new low. He should have seen something like this coming, just as he’d seen the station wagon dead ahead. Of course, he saw it too late to do anything about it. Story of his life.

It became even harder to focus through the pain. One moment he’d be in the car in agony, and the next he’d be on his bed at his mom’s, Cas leaning against his feet as they read portions of _The Lord of the Rings_ aloud and made fun of each other’s Gollum voice. Then he’d wake up, not knowing which had been real, until a wave of pain through his head or his leg would remind him.

During a moment of lucidity, he remembered the other car. _God, there are people in there._ Dean tried to get up and go help them, but there was metal trapping him in his seat and one of his legs definitely wasn’t bending the right way. A wave of nausea coursed through him, and he blew chunks all over himself, choking on it and tasting the metallic flavor of blood.

Blue and red lights were approaching, but they’d come and go as Dean slipped in and out of consciousness. They’d see the bottles in the backseat, and know that his dad hadn’t been watching when he ran the light, but they wouldn’t be able to tell that the accident was all Dean’s fault. He tried to hold on long enough to tell them about the other car and to make sure they were okay first, but his dreams eventually won the battle for his mind. 

_“Preeecioouus.”_

_“You sound like Miss Piggy, dude.”_

_Cas let out a pleased laugh and leaned harder against Dean’s legs. “Yes, precious.”_

_“Dork.”_

_“You love me.”_

_More than anything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post the last chapter sometime in the next few days, as well as chapter 1 of part 2! 
> 
> Also, please don't hate me. Dean's not dead or anything.


	23. Summer 1995

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! On to Part 2!
> 
> This chapter contains:  
> Dean/Aaron  
> Lots of swearing

It was still not okay. Dean’s body was mostly healed, sure, but that didn’t mean he was okay.

He was lying on the sofa, watching dumb afternoon cartoons when he should have been getting ready for his job. He bagged groceries at the market; it wasn’t glamorous, but they needed the money.

“Dean, I want to watch a documentary on the Hubble Telescope.”

“Fuck off.”

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam insisted. “Don’t you have to leave soon anyway.”

“I said fuck off.” Sam took that opportunity to try and sit on the sofa anyway, causing Dean to jump away from him. “Dude, my leg.”

“Your leg is fine,” Sam countered and forced Dean to readjust so he could sit.

“My cast came off two weeks ago, dumbass. Or did you not notice my fucking crutches.”

“You seem to bag groceries fine enough, then you come home and you’re a log, taking up the couch—which is _my_ bed.”

“Dude, it’s the couch. It’s like the only place to sit in the house except at the kitchen table,” Dean said, turning the volume up so he could ignore Sam. Baby Kermit the Frog was mad at Baby Fozzie, and Dean did not want to miss how they were going to resolve it. Sam still sat next to him, pretending to watch, but he was just waiting to pounce on the remote once Dean had to leave.

“You could sit on your bed,” Sam said with a whine. “Since you insist on keeping it, even though the logical thing would be for you and me to share the big bed, and mom sleep in your bed.”

“The logical thing is for us to move out of this shithole and into a real two bedroom. Until then, that’s my fucking room. It’s not like I have anything else.”

Dean’s things were still in boxes in his room. He grabbed clothes out of them instead of putting anything in his dresser. Sam’s boxes were in the living room, getting in the way and overflowing with school stuff and clothes he’d outgrown. Their mom’s room was no better, as it held the overflow from Dean and Sam’s old life in Kansas: sports equipment which Dean hadn’t touched since the accident, winter coats, baby pictures that Mary hadn’t gotten to keep in the divorce, but which were hers now. Her boys were hers now.

“You have a lot of things, Dean,” Sam said. “You’ve lived here during the summer for eight years or something. You didn’t have to go to a new school for the first time two months before summer break, where you didn’t know anyone. You got to school a couple weeks before summer, and you had Charlie and all your loser friends waiting for you like you were some returning hero.”

The reminder of who wasn’t there waiting at school burned like Cas had left the day before rather than more than six months ago.

“I gotta get to work,” Dean said, bounding off the couch as best as his recently healed leg could take him once Fozzie and Kermit were friends again. 

He changed into his stupid uniform in his tiny room, grabbed his wallet and bus pass and headed to the bus stop. He had his license, but he hadn’t driven since Kansas. Even if he hadn’t spent most of that time with a broken right leg, his mom only had the one car and she needed it to go to work. He told himself it had nothing to do with the accident; he wasn’t even the one driving when it had happened.

Dean passed by the Novaks old apartment on his way downstairs (which sucked on crutches, but the building didn’t have an elevator). There was a new family living there; six-year-old twin girls shared Cas and Gabe’s old room. His heart ached, but he ignored it. No amount of pining would bring Cas back or make him call. He was gone, and his stupid box of books still sat untouched in Dean’s room, taunting him whenever he grabbed a pair of socks or a clean shirt. Dean wouldn’t move it, and he wouldn’t get rid of it, so there it stayed as a reminder of all that Dean had lost.

He knew he was lucky. All his injuries were recoverable, and he knew, unfortunately, that had not been true for everyone involved. He ran his fingers over the scar on the side of his head; his hair was growing in, and he’d need the back and sides trimmed soon to keep from looking like a spiky Q-tip. The doctors had only shaved half his head, but Dean didn’t want to look like an idiot, so he’d had his mom shave the rest after he woke up. The look on her face when he could answer all the doctor’s questions still haunted his dreams sometimes. Oklahoma had been where he’d wanted to be for eight years, and, yeah, it sucked how he got here, but he should have been happy to be with his mom, not miserable. Something really fucked up had taken Cas away from him. He thought maybe his mom knew what, but she’d never said a word. Something really fucked up had gotten Dean and Sam to Oklahoma, too, so there was a circular justice to it all.

That didn’t make Dean feel any better.

* * *

Dean was able to ditch the crutches completely two weeks later. He wasn’t going to be cleared for Baseball—if he ever wanted to play again after what had happened—or other sports for at least six months. He spent his free time hanging out with Charlie at her house. Her parents thought they were dating, despite their denial, and made them leave the basement door open, but it wasn’t like that at all. She was like a sister to Dean, and he knew she felt the same way about him. He wouldn’t have been able to get through the last few months without her friendship. She had been right beside his mom and Sam when he’d woken up in the hospital, red eyed and pale just like the rest of his family. The transition to school in Oklahoma would have been twice as difficult without her.

It didn’t help that Cas practically haunted the halls of Memorial High School. Beside the football trophies, which seemed to endlessly line the halls, Dean found Cas’s championship swimming trophy, photos from his performance as Mark Antony in _Julius Caesar_ —Gabe must have given him years of grief for that toga—and his name on the previous year’s Dean’s List for a perfect 4.0 grade point average. Their friends had all greeted Dean like he belonged there, but he was only in school a few days before everyone figured out he was Cas’s best friend and the whole class had started grilling him on what had happened to Cas, where he had gone, and why. What had hurt the most was that they had all expected he’d know, even when they didn’t. He’d blustered and lied, pointing out that it wasn’t his place to tell them without Cas’s permission. 

His friends at school just didn’t get it. They didn’t understand how Dean messed everything up. They didn’t know that Cas hadn’t even said goodbye. He’d called Charlie over and said goodbye to her, even though he hadn’t given her any more information on why they were leaving. It was just Dean. It was just Dean with his unrequited crush ruining everything—Dean, who made awful choices that destroyed lives, who was so disgusting to the people around him that they would rather go to jail than face him again. 

It was a day off from work for Dean, and he hadn’t even gotten out of bed until the afternoon. What was the point? Around two o’clock he rolled out of bed, and took over the sofa from Sam, who made the unfortunate mistake of getting up for a pee break. That was where his mom found him five hours later, Sam grouchily sitting on the floor.

“Dean,” she scolded. “I asked you to put the casserole in the oven because I was going to be late. Mrs. Wallace had her root canals scheduled today.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. Like he was supposed to remember what his mom had told him the night before. “I forgot.”

His mom sighed, closing her eyes up tight and exhaling like she was trying to breathe out her annoyance. “I’m very disappointed in you. I asked you to do a very simple task, and, since you didn’t do it, now we don’t have anything to eat for dinner.”

“We can just get fast food.” Dean shrugged as well as he could from his prone position.

Another tense sigh came from his mom, but Dean had stopped looking at her. “I can’t afford to buy fast food every night, nor can I afford to waste tonight’s dinner.”

Dean offered a sigh of his own. “I liked _summer mom_ better.”

“Excuse me?” his mom said, and the air in the room thickened with the tension. 

“Summer mom was cool, you know,” Dean drawled, knowing he was digging himself into a hole, but unable to stop himself. “She let me stay up late and didn’t yell. Life was a cake walk.”

“I don’t mind waiting for the casserole to cook, mom,” Sam offered—the kiss-up. It only served to ratchet the tension up another notch.

“Sam, why don’t you go in my room and see how much cash I have in my purse. We’ll get chicken sandwiches for dinner, and we’ll have the casserole as leftovers tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam shrugged, realizing he was being sent away so that their mom could yell at Dean.

“Dean,” his mom began. “I’d ground you, but a better punishment would be to make you go somewhere other than work or Charlie’s house.”

“God, Mom, I just forgot to put a stupid casserole in the oven; I didn’t knock over a liquor store.”

“We’re talking about your attitude, young man.”

Dean had an immediate flashback to his dad, angry over Dean’s backtalking. It wasn’t as if Dean could have offered the excuse to his dad that Cas had run off and abandoned him and he was pretty upset over it. Things had gotten pretty bad in the months before the night of the accident, and Dean hadn’t given his father the respect he thought he deserved. He must have flinched at the memories because his mother’s face had softened as she looked at him.

“I’m worried about you,” she said finally.

“Why?” Dean said with more attitude than he truly felt.

“Because I can see you’re hurting, and you won’t talk to me.”

“My dad is in jail and two people are dead because of me. How am I supposed to feel?”

His mom crossed to the sofa and put a warm hand on his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter what you feel, sweetie. It doesn’t matter if you’re angry, sad, guilty, disappointed, or anything else. But you have to let yourself feel it. What you’re doing, bottling everything up, it’s not going to help you heal.”

“Everything’s fucked up and it’s all my fault! I ruined lives just because I couldn’t—“ Dean stopped himself. He couldn’t admit what he’d done, not to his mom. He couldn’t bear the look on her face when she realized how badly he had screwed up.

“What your dad did is not your fault.”

“You don’t even know, Mom.”

“I know something really bad happened between you and your dad, but, Dean, whatever you think you did, it doesn’t justify his actions. You almost died, and I thank the Angels every day that you’re okay, but that’s a big deal. You’re not going to feel better unless you talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be me.”

* * *

It was probably a coincidence, but the next day Charlie called and asked if he wanted to come over and marathon _Star Wars_ with her. Dean was still off from work, so, after a shove from Sam, he pulled himself out of bed before noon, yanked on a pair of sweatpants, and took the bus over to her house.

Her basement was set up as a rec room, with a pool table along one side, and a big screen TV with a couch on the other. Charlie also had her computer set up down there, since her parents wouldn’t let her put it in her room. It was a smart move, too, because, otherwise, Charlie would have been on it all night instead of sleeping.

“I can’t believe my mom and dad don’t want me to be alone down here with you. Like anything is going to happen between us. Gross.” She plopped down on the sofa next to him, making him bounce more than her tiny size would suggest.

“Thanks, Charlie,” Dean joked, in mock offense. 

“You know what I mean. You’re like my brother.” Charlie gave him a gentle whack on the arm.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean smiled.

“So, you doing okay?” Charlie asked with suspicious casualness.

Dean sighed. “How early did my mom call you this morning?” 

“Early.” Charlie gave him an impressed smile. “She’s worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” Dean insisted. He pressed play on the VCR remote and the famous _Star Wars_ crawl began, completely distracting Charlie from her interrogation.

They made it through the entirety of _A New Hope_ and halfway through _Empire_ before she tried again.

“You’ve been through some pretty intense shit, you know. If you weren’t fine, we’d all understand. I mean, I’m still fucked up about everything. I started seeing the school counselors once a week after Cas left. It really helped me through thinking I was going to lose my other best friend, too.”

“Is that why you’d miss lunch every Thursday?” Dean asked, his interest peaked.

“Yeah,” Charlie shrugged. “I did not need to be tutored in Biology, believe me. But talking helped. With other stuff, too.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” Dean lamented. Some things hurt too much to ever talk about.

“Start with the easy things, man. Start with how you’re feeling.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean said. He wasn’t sure if he meant it, though. It wasn’t like he was feeling just one thing; he was feeling a thousand different conflicting emotions—every one of them hurt.

“Great.” She beamed at him; her smile made it all seem a bit easier. “Let’s order pizza; I’m starving.

After a brief argument about toppings—whatever Charlie said, pineapple did not belong on pizza—and the rest of _The Empire Strikes Back_ , they were chowing down on pizza like they’d never eaten before.

Dean popped in the next tape and pressed play, so they could watch while they ate. Princess Leia was trapped by Jabba the Hutt while trying to rescue Han Solo.

“God, Princess Leia’s so hot,” Charlie said through a mouthful of pizza.

At first, Dean thought he must have misheard, but a glance over at Charlie and he knew he hadn't. Her nonchalance was completely forced, and she may have been looking at the TV, but her eyes weren’t focused on it.

_Oh._ Oh wow. Was Charlie saying what Dean thought she was saying?

“Yeah,” Dean said, hoping his agreement was enough. “Princess Leia is super hot.” And then, because he was feeling brave and stupid, he continued. “But so is Han Solo.”

Her head whipped around so fast, she should have gotten whiplash. She looked at him like he was something special, like he had done something extraordinary. Maybe they both had. She had tears growing in her eyes when she said, “Nah.”

Dean could only shrug.

They watched the rest of the movie in silence, clinging to each other like a life line. Dean felt better than he had in months.

* * *

Dean got home that evening with a new lightness in his still-limping step. 

“Hey, Mom.”

Her tone was calm, but cold, when she answered. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Do you want me to reheat the casserole from yesterday?”

That earned a small, sad smile from her. “I’m taking care of it.” She returned to whatever she was doing at the table—a crossword puzzle, paying bills, a manifesto about how fucked up he was. “Bobby Singer called for you. You can call him back after dinner.”

_Uncle Bobby?_ He and Dean’s dad had had a disagreement about three years earlier, and he’d disappeared from their lives. He’d been such a feature before that, coming to holidays and sending birthday cards with twenty dollar bills folded into them, but so much had happened and Dean had all but forgotten about him. Just the mention of the name, however, and, suddenly, Dean felt the absence nearly as deeply as he felt Cas’s.

“Okay,” Dean answered. “Mom, can we talk?”

Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline, but she managed to keep her voice steady as she answered. “Of course.”

Dean joined her at the table, and whatever she’d been working on disappeared to be replaced with two hot chocolates with whipped cream and sprinkles on top.

Dean took a large sip and licked the whipped cream off his top lip. “I don’t even know where to start…I…I want to talk about the night of the accident.”

“Okay.”

“I got in trouble with coach after practice because I was messing around in the locker room. He called dad, and dad came to pick me up. He was already drunk and he had a fifth in the car. I shouldn’t have let him drive, but I was already afraid he’d do something bad.”

“Because he hit you.”

Dean nodded. It was the truth. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was a place to start.

His mom pressed on. “Had he hit you before?”

“No.” That was also the truth. “Sometimes he shoved me a little too hard, and he spanked me when I was a kid—hard enough that it hurt. He never hit me.”

“Why did he hit you that night then?” Dean seized up; he wasn’t ready—he couldn’t do this. His mom would never love him again. She was looking at him like she loved him, and that would all go away once she knew. She reached out a hand to gently stroke his arm. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to tell you. I just…you’re not going to like it. You’re not going to like me.”

“I love you! Nothing you could have done will ever change that.”

Dean hesitated, weighing his options, but then remembered the look on Charlie’s face when they’d talked, and how she’d understood. This didn’t have to be a bad thing; his mom was not his dad.

“Coach caught me…doing things…with…uh…someone…in the locker room.”

“You were having sex,” his mom prompted. Dean could see the disappointment in her face.

“Yeah,” he answered. “His name was Aaron”—his mom let out a little gasp—“he played first base. Coach called his parents, too, and his grandpa showed up, yelling at him in a foreign language. Didn’t hit him, though.”

The events had replayed in his head at least once a day since April. He was on his knees, mouth full, and he had loved every second as much as Aaron had. Then there was Coach interrupting, Coach yelling, and the embarrassed waiting while their parents came to get them. His dad had yelled, too, calling Dean every insult he knew, which stung as badly as his fist did moments later. Dean never should have gotten in the car with his dad as drunk as he was.

“Dean,” his mom said softly, her face calm and expressionless. “Are you gay?”

“No,” Dean answered out of habit. He hesitated, unable to look his mom in the eyes. “Kinda.”

She let out a small laugh, but she didn’t sound angry. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I like girls, too. I just—I had to _know_ , Mom.”

“So you thought you’d fool around with a guy in your school locker room? _Dean_.”

“You don’t know what it’s like, Mom,” Dean said, jumping out of his chair. “To see him every day, and to want to touch him—be touched by him. I wanted to kiss him so bad. I wanted everything, but he was always out of reach.”

His mom scrunched up her face in pain, but managed a forced out, “Aaron?”

“Not Aaron. Cas.”

“Oh, _sweetheart_.” She stood up, too, and wrapped her warm arms around him in a hug. She smelled sweet and safe. “What your dad did to you—what he did to the people in the other car—that’s not your fault.”

“If I hadn’t fucked up, they’d still be alive.”

“If your _dad_ hadn’t fucked up, they’d still be alive. There is no excuse for his actions, Dean. He chose to be a homophobe, he chose to hit you, and he chose to drive drunk. You were a kid, and you made a mistake, but that’s it. Your dad is in jail because of the choices he made; not the choices you made.”

“But…” Dean began, a retort on his lips. His mom was looking at him so fiercely, and her grip on his arms and shoulders was so strong, that whatever he was about to say faded from his thoughts. Dean returned her hug, wrapping his arms around his mom and leaning his head on her shoulder.

"My sweet boy, you’ll get through this. We’re going to have a long talk about safe sex, but you’ll get through this.”

“Thanks, mom.”

She hugged him tighter and ran a soothing hand through his hair. “Cas will come back to you,” she whispered. “Some things are meant to be.”

* * *

After dinner, Dean dialed the number Bobby had left for him.

“Hello,” the gruff voice said on the other end of the line.

“Hey, uh, Uncle Bobby, this is Dean…Dean, uh, Winchester,” Dean said into the phone.

“Dean!” Bobby said with enthusiasm. “How are you doing, boy?”

“I’m doing okay,” Dean answered honestly. He felt better than he had in months after his talk with his mom. Some things were pretty awkward. His mom knew far too much about what guys can do together than Dean had ever wanted to know. Some of the information was really helpful, though, despite the discomfort at hearing it from his mom.

“That’s good to hear; that’s real good to hear. I don’t think you know why your daddy and I had a falling out, but I disagreed with some of the things he put on you boys—always did. Never wanted to get myself kicked out of your lives, though. Finally couldn’t keep my mouth shut any longer.”

“It’s okay, Bobby,” Dean said. “I know how dad can be.”

“Sure you do, son,” Bobby answered. “That’s why I called. There’s no reason to sugarcoat anything. I bought the wreck.”

“What wreck?” Dean asked. The answer occurred to him before Bobby even responded, and his stomach became uneasy.

“Your dad’s car. The ’67 Impala.”

“ _Oh_. Oh, wow.”

“I thought you might feel strongly about this,” Bobby said in a serious voice.

“No, I mean…she was supposed to be mine in two years,” Dean mused. He had loved that car since he was a kid. “What are you going to do with her?”

Bobby owned a salvage yard, Dean didn’t really have to ask what he was going to do with the remains of the car. She had hit the side of a station wagon at more than sixty miles per hour. She was gone forever.

“I’m going to rebuild her better than new. Not her fault what happened. She’s a good car.”

“Really?” Dean asked.

“Really,” Bobby answered, a smile in his voice. “I could use a hand, too. If your mom says it’s okay, how about you come up to Sioux Falls for a few weeks and help me out.”

“Yeah! Yeah, let me ask my mom,” Dean said. He wanted to; he wanted to get out of Tulsa for the summer, away from all the memories of Cas and the years they had spent there. He wanted to save the car that had been as much a home to him as this apartment. “Mom!”

He felt a hand on his arm. “He already asked me if I thought it was a good idea,” his mom said. “I do. I expect regular phone calls and for you to be on your best behavior for Bobby.”

“Yeah, of course. Of course, Mom.” He let the phone drop to hug her again.

“Bobby?” He picked up the phone again to hear the older man chuckling. “I’m in.”

* * *

“At least I get your room for the rest of the summer,” Sam said, as he dumped a box of clothes onto the floor.

Dean smirked and ruffled Sam’s hair. “I’ll miss you, too, Sammy.”

Sam ducked from the affection and pouted. “It’s not like this was going to be our first summer together since I was in preschool.”

“Dude,” Dean said, tossing a sock into his suitcase. “I’m going to be gone for a month. I’ll be back before it’s even August. When I get back, I’ll take you to the swimming pool and the Fair, and all the cool places in Tulsa, and we’ll figure out the room situation on a permanent basis.”

“Promise?” Sam asked skeptically.

“I promise.”

“I’m putting up my space poster.”

“Sure,” Dean winked.

Frown lines appeared in Sam’s otherwise smooth forehead. “What got you out of your deep pit of despair all of the sudden?”

“I had a good talk with mom and with Charlie.” It was as good of a time as any to talk to Sam about things, so he might as well try it. Sam wasn’t their dad, and, if he did freak out, he’d probably end up grounded or something. “Hey, Sammy,” he finally said. “Uh, you know how I like the band AC/DC. I, uh, guess you could say I’m a lot like them.”

That was the best he could come up with? Sam’s confused face said it all.

“Huh?”

“I swing both ways,” Dean tried again.

Sam’s face was still scrunched up in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

“I’m bisexual,” Dean nearly shouted in frustration.

“Okay, gross,” Sam frowned. “I don’t want to think about you having sex with anyone, let alone guys.”

Dean let out a bark of a laugh at his brother’s reaction. Sam was okay with him. Everything was going to be okay. “Please don’t think about me having sex ever.”

“No problem.”

Dean’s suitcase was soon full of his clothes, and most of his boxes were empty, folded up and ready to be stowed in their small storage area. There were a few boxes of winter clothes left that should go into storage, too, anyway.

“What about this one?” Sam asked. He placed a hand on the box of books Cas had left for Dean.

“Leave it,” Dean grunted.

“It’s in the way.”

“I said leave it.”

“It’s just full of books. Mom said. It’s not like Cas has been hiding in there for eight months— _oh_.”

“Shut up, Sammy.”

“Were you guys, like, a thing? Is that why you freaked out when he moved away?”

“No, God. He didn’t feel the same way, okay. I thought he was cool with it, but he wouldn’t take my calls and stopped calling me, and then he was gone.”

Suddenly, Sam stood up from his spot on the floor, sitting on the bed, and pulling the box towards him. He took Dean’s pocket knife—the one he’d bought while camping—which they’d been using to cut open the other boxes, and sliced through the tape on the box. He dug through, dumping books onto the bed.

“What the hell, Sam! What are you doing?”

“They’re just books. Look, you loved this one.” He tossed Dean _The Indian in the Cupboard_ , and Dean remembered how he and Cas had imagined going into another world. He opened the cover and ran his finger over their names inscribed there. Sam tossed another one— _To Kill a Mockingbird_. Dean had reread that one in Freshman English, analyzing the racism of the town and the results of the trial. As nine year olds, he and Cas had wished they had a dad like Atticus Finch and lives as interesting as Scout, Jem, and Dill. Soon, there was a pile of books he and Cas had loved over the years, and Dean’s eyes were welling up with tears. He missed Cas so badly that he physically felt it in his chest. “Hey,” Sam said, taking a book out of the bottom of the pile and examining it. “That’s weird.”

“What’s weird?”

“He only left you one of _The Lord of the Rings_. The other two aren’t here, and neither is The Hobbit.”

“Let me see,” Dean demanded. He sat next to Sam and went through the piles again, and Sam was right. Cas had only left him the second book, _The Two Towers_. “Why would he do that?”

“Maybe he was trying to tell you something?”

“What? That he knows about my crush on Aragorn?”

Sam laughed, and it was like music to Dean’s ears. He wasn’t like their dad.

“This one is the one where Frodo and Sam go off together with Gollum, right?”

“Uh, yeah. How did you know?”

Sam shrugged. “Charlie suggested I read them while you were in the hospital. They’re good.”

Dean flipped through the book, and, as he neared the end, some penciled in handwriting in the margin caught his eye. 

Sam—the hobbit, not the little brother—was crying over Frodo, thinking him dead after the battle with Shelob. Cas had underlined the line _Don’t go where I can’t follow_ and written a note in the margin.

_Dean,_

_I’m sorry._

_Love,_  
_Cas_

“That’s it? _I’m sorry?_ What the fuck, Cas?!” Dean threw the book onto the floor, but Sam reached down and retrieved it.

“Maybe he didn’t know what else to say.”

Maybe. Maybe he was just sorry he went where Dean couldn’t follow, wherever that was. Of course, Samwise thought that Frodo was dead in the part Cas had underlined, but he was just paralyzed, not dead. He came back to his friend and they finished their adventure together. Maybe, Cas wasn’t just apologizing. Maybe he was promising he’d come back someday.

Maybe their story wasn’t done yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't despair! Just like Dean thought, the story isn't over! Head over to Part 2, [I'm Gonna Get You Back](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8527537/chapters/19547551), to start the next stage of their journey.
> 
> I totally stole the Princess Leia/Han Solo stuff from a Tumblr post.


End file.
